


A Change of Pace

by hopefulwriter27



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulwriter27/pseuds/hopefulwriter27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Blaine rejects him, Kurt falls into a relationship with Karofsky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the episode “Furt,” but in this ‘verse Kurt never went to Dalton. Also, there is going to be sex between two underage teenagers in this story (both over 16 though). So if that bothers you, don’t read.

  
“It’s just,” there’s a pause on the other side of the line as Blaine gathers his thoughts. “You’re completely amazing,” he starts again, and Kurt presses his hip into the bathroom sink, “but I just want to be friends.”  


  
Kurt’s hand spasms around his phone. His breath catches in his chest, and it physically hurts to murmur, “Just friends?”  


  
There’s soft rustling on the other end, and Kurt imagines Blaine easing to his feet to pace. “Please don’t be hurt,” Blaine says.  


  
Kurt shakes his head blindly and stammers out, “I’m not. It’s fine.” The words are razors in his throat.  


  
“I just think you’re not ready to date yet.” Blaine’s words roll over him like a tidal wave. Kurt’s stomach rolls along with them.  


  
“Don’t be mad. You’re an amazing, amazing guy,” Blaine says again.  


  
Suddenly, Kurt needs off the phone  _now_. “Okay,” he says. He hears Blaine inhale, gearing up for what Kurt knows is another sympathetic speech. “I have to go. It’s time for glee practice.” That’s a complete lie. They don’t have practice today because Mr. Shue has some crazy dinner date with his ex-wife. No one had been too upset with the cancelation; after all they were teenagers and had better things to do on their Friday afternoons.  


  
“Kurt…” Blaine says, but Kurt doesn’t listen.  


  
“Got to go! Talk to you later. Bye!” he says with false enthusiasm.  


  
He watches as Blaine’s picture disappears from his phone. The screen goes dark. The boy’s bathroom is quiet. There’s just the gentle murmur of the pipes and the occasional pitter-patter of shoes and low voices as people pass by in the hallway outside. Kurt’s breaths echo throughout the room as he tries to get air into his lungs. His skin burns and his lids of his eyes feel like fiery bricks. __  


 _  
And I haven’t even cried yet.    
_   
The thought breaks the damn, and suddenly, Kurt can’t stop himself. Tears pour down his cheeks. His vision blurs.

 _  
I am ready to date.    
_   
The thought cycles through his brain until his sadness begins to morph to anger. Sometimes, dating is all Kurt can think about. Holding hands, laughing over silly movies or a great dinner. Kissing. Connecting.  _How dare he!_

  
Kurt spins around and flips on the cold water. It blasts into the porcelain sink below, sounding like a raging waterfall. Kurt lets the sound wash over him then leans forward to dip his hands beneath the cascade. Coldness bites at his skin, cooling his burning face. Still, the tears fall.  


  
He splashes his face again and tells himself to stop crying.  _So Blaine doesn’t like you, so what? He isn’t the only guy in the world,_ Kurt forces himself to think. Another thought squiggles in,  _if Blaine doesn’t like you, who will? What if I’m alone forever?_ The though terrifies him.  


  
His chest constricts and Kurt know his cries are about to morph to sobs. “Stop it,” he says aloud. The words don’t work so he splashes his face once more then presses his palms to his eyes.  


  
The door clicks open. Kurt takes a quick breath and prays it’s no one important. He catches a flash of red letterman jacket. A sliver of fear slides alongside his misery and anger.  He knows who it is before his vision completely clears.  


  
“What’s wrong Fancy? Pretty Boy break up with you?” Karofsky’s voice is cruel and mocking.  


  
The words are too close to the truth and fury snaps away Kurt’s fear.  “Leave!” Kurt snarls. He wipes furiously at his face and welcomes the anger. It pushes away all other emotions.  


  
Karofsky’s face goes dark and he says, “This is the boy’s bathroom. I have to pee. Why don’t you go next door to the girl’s to pat your eyes.”  


  
Kurt’s fingers curl into fists and he takes a step forward. “Oh, that’s original. Call me a girl again Karofsky.” The jock’s eyes narrow, but Kurt ignores the signal of danger and takes another step forward. Their bodies are mere inches apart. “But you would like it if I were a girl, wouldn’t you? Then you wouldn’t be attracted to me.” Kurt hurls the words as if they can cut.  


  
Something that looks like fear flashes through Karofsky’s eyes. Kurt feels a thrill of victory. Then the bigger boy’s mouth goes tight and he growls, “Yeah, in your fantasies,” as if he didn’t kiss Kurt in the locker room a few weeks ago.  


  
The words are the expected denial, but this time instead of making Kurt feel sad, lonely, and slightly angry, they ignite an explosion of fury inside his chest. He doesn’t think. He just wants to get rid of this hurt crushing his heart. For once, he just wants the upper hand. He takes the space between them, curls his fingers in Karofsky’s shirt and smashes their lips together.    


  
Karofsky is surprised. Kurt can feel the way he sways back, compensating for the sudden weight pressing against him. He feels the way the other boy’s hands hover in the air by Kurt’s shoulders before gripping his arms. He hears Karofsky’s quiet sigh as Kurt steals his breath.  


  
Kurt’s aware of all of these things, but he doesn’t really feel the kiss until Karofsky’s hand slides from his arm to the nape of his neck. His fingers are calloused and rub roughly against Kurt’s skin. Kurt thinks,  _What the hell am I doing?_  


  
He pulls from the kiss, suddenly aware of how stupid he’s being. There’s a moment of panic where he raises his eyes to meet Karofsky’s, preparing to be punched or shoved. Karofsky just stares at him for a second, confusion and something Kurt doesn’t recognize whirling in his dark eyes. Then the boy dips down, taking the second kiss.  


  
This time, Kurt’s conscious of everything. Karofsky’s lips are strong and forceful. Lately, Kurt’s been imagining gentle, lazy kisses with Blaine, but this… dominance… sends a spike of arousal through Kurt’s body. He presses forward and a large hand skates down Kurt’s back and grabs at his ass. He groans, and Karofsky echoes the sound.  


  
A tongue traces his bottom lip. Kurt throws his arms around Karofsky’s neck and lets his tongue slip in. Karofsky’s hand tightens in his hair, pulling Kurt closer, and he slips a thigh between Kurt’s legs. Kurt can’t help but rub against the muscled body, and for the first time he realizes how hard he is. His own leg brushes against Karofsky’s own arousal. He’s so turned on he can’t think straight.       


  
Fingers trace the edge of his jeans, touching the bare flesh of his back. There’s another low groan from other boy. Clarity hits him like a freight train. He’s kissing  _Karofsky_. No, not just kissing.  _Rutting_  against Karofsky like a dog in heat.  


  
Kurt pulls himself away. It’s harder than he expected. “No,” he says with shake of his head.    


  
“What?” Karofsky voice is heavy with arousal. He reaches out, clearly wanting Kurt back where he was.    


  
Kurt swallows the salvia in his mouth, and with dawning horror, realizes he tastes nothing but Karofsky. “No,” he says again, a little more forcefully. “This isn’t going to happen.”  _I’m not going to make out with the boy who tortures me._  


  
Karofsky stands there for long second looking torn between wanting to throw Kurt against the wall and have his way with him, and just wanting to throw Kurt against the wall. He shakes his head and snarls, “Fuck you.”  


  
Lust still sings through Kurt’s veins, making him very uncomfortable, so he snaps back, “You wish.”  


  
Karofsky makes an angered sound that’s something between a scream and growl. It’s eerily reminiscent of the noise he made before he stormed out of the locker room. His fists coil tightly, and Kurt thinks he’s about to be pummeled by the The Fury. Instead, Karofsky just shakes his head and storms out of the bathroom.  


  
The door swings back and forth for a while before settling closed again. Kurt is frozen in place. Thoughts and feelings are muddled in a swarm of utter confusion. A double beep twitters through the room. Hands shaking, Kurt lifts slides his phone from his pocket and sees a text message from Blaine. It reads, ‘You’re amazing!”  


  
Kurt drops the phone, stumbles into a stall, and throws up.   



	2. Chapter 2

Kurt claims illness over the weekend. While he doesn’t have a cold, it’s not far from the truth. Finn tries to cheer him up by renting  _Chicago,_ but the movie freezes ten minutes in, and Kurt takes it out of the DVD player with a sigh and throws himself onto his bed. 

“So, uh, you want me to go pick out something else?” Finn asks. 

Kurt lifts his head up to look at his step-brother. The other boy looks earnest- he’s completely willing to spend the afternoon watching chic flicks and musicals with Kurt- but Kurt’s seen Finn glance at his phone three times in the last ten minutes. 

“No,” Kurt says with a dismissive wave. “Go see Berry. You know you want to go make out, or do whatever straight couples do on a Saturday afternoon.” 

Finn’s eyes go wide and he flushes. “We’re not… I’m not…” he stammers out. “We’re not dating anymore,” he finishes lamely. As if to belie his words, Finn’s phone chirps out a melancholy tune from Phantom of the Opera. Without even looking at the screen, Kurt knows that ringtone is Rachel’s.  

“Just go,” he says, and Finn flushes further. At one point in his life Kurt would have killed to see where that flush ended, but now Finn has been moved to the ‘family’ category where his name and anything related to sex are firmly checked in two separate boxes. 

“Are you sure?” Finn asks. The phone has stopped ringing, but Finn can’t seem to keep his eyes away. 

“Go,” Kurt growls, annoyed. 

Finn nods then says, “thanks.” He’s texting before he’s even up the stairs. 

“GaGa,” Kurt mutters when he hears the basement door snap shut. Sometimes his step-brother can be so ridiculous. Then he has flashback to yesterday afternoon. His stomach drops.  _I have no right to judge Finn,_ Kurt thinks. 

The memory of the kiss, kisses-  _make out session_ \- presses down on him and Kurt buries his head in a pillow, trying to suffocate the images.  A ghost caress skates across his back, and Kurt flips over. His heart pounds and a shivers rocks through him. He throws himself off the bed and practically runs to the bathroom. Flipping on the faucet, he fills a Dixie cup and drinks the whole thing in one long gulp. He gorges himself on water until his chest hurts from lack of air and his stomach is uncomfortably full. 

He turns off the water and stares at himself in the mirror. Dark circles mar his eyes like bruises. His skin is pale and colorless.  _No wonder everyone believes I’m sick,_ Kurt thinks.  _I look like a zombie._

It’s not a surprise. The last few months of school have been awful, bullies stalking him between classes and classes being way to easy. Ever since The Locker Room incident (Kurt refuses to think of it as anything else), showing up each day went from being difficult but manageable to terrifying and soul-stealing.  How is he supposed to smile and pretend everything is okay when he doesn’t know if Karofsky want to corner him and kill him, or corner him and rape him? Or both? 

Rape. The thought makes his knees tremble and Kurt twists to the toilet to sit. The water in his stomach rolls. He leans forward, burying his face in his hands.  _And here I am kissing him,_ Kurt thinks hysterically. A laugh escapes him. There’s not a trace of humor to be heard.  _What am I going to do?_

Kurt wants to call Blaine. He wants to cry and share what he did. Beg for help, for comfort. He wants to hear Blaine’s soothing voice, his wise advice. He can’t though. He hasn’t talked to Blaine since yesterday. Kurt’s ignored all three of Blaine’s calls and all eight of his text messages.  _Why did I ask him to go out? Why did I tell him I like him?_

The worst part is that if Kurt called Blaine right now, told him what happened, he knows Blaine would understand. He’d tell Kurt that he acted out of anger. Blaine would tell Kurt some funny story where he’d made a similar mistake. Then together they would come up with a plan to deal with it. They’d come up with something so that Monday didn’t feel like Kurt’s execution date. But Kurt can’t call Blaine. 

_ Just friends,  _ Kurt thinks with another humorless laugh.  _He just wants to be friends._ Really, Kurt knows the truth. It’s plain and simple.  _I’m just not good enough for him._ It’s a hard fact to swallow. Blaine is handsome and smart and sweet. While Kurt knows he’s isn’t ugly, he also knows that he’s no Blaine. No Finn. No Puck. Even before he came out he never seemed to have any girls hit on him. (Mercedes not counting, because she’s his best friend and friends like each other.) The only thing Kurt has going for him is that he can sing. And well, Blaine can do that too.

Talking to Blaine isn’t an option.   

_ At least Karofsky finds me attractive.  _ The thought sneaks in and leaves Kurt nauseous.  _God, I am not that desperate._ He remembers the feel of Karofsky’s hand against his ass and the muscled thigh beneath him. A short burst of heat flares through Kurt’s cheeks and at the base of his spine.  _Apparently I was._

It’s not a good thought. Kurt stands and shakes his head. He still feels queasy, but he can’t be in the bathroom anymore. He grabs his backpack from the floor and yanks out his iPod. He shuffles through his playlists and settles on ‘The Best of Broadway.’  _Defying Gravity_ comes on first, and while he doesn’t listen to this song much anymore because he associates it with Rachel, he lets it play. Rachel is better than the other alternatives. 

He throws himself back on the bed and scurries under the covers. He flips his light off. Darkness settles around the room like a giant blanket. It’s one of the benefits of having his room in the basement. He turns the volume up a little louder, trying to drown out his thoughts. Kurt focuses on the music, letting nothing else in. 

Still, the rock in his stomach doesn’t go away. 

*** 

It’s snowing Monday morning. Kurt wakes up shivering as his alarm announces its presence. He switches the loud beeping to the radio. Excitement jumps through his chest when he realizes that the boys from WNCI and the Morning Zoo (the only program Kurt listens to this early in the morning) are announcing school closings. 

_ McKinely, McKinely, please say McKinely,  _ Kurt prays. He prays through washing his face and brushing his teeth. He prays through dabbing on concealer. He prays as he slips on his cashmere sweater.  

Finn prays with him over breakfast. “A snow day would be awesome,” his step-brother states as he looks out the window. 

“I don’t think that’s going to happen boys,” Burt says with a chuckle. Kurt follows his dad’s gaze and watches the light snowfall outside. 

“Maybe you’ll let out early,” Carole says as she pours herself a cup of coffee. She’s still in her robe and settles down at kitchen table. 

Burt leans over and gives her a kiss then looks at Kurt. “You’ll be careful driving home if that happens,” he commands. 

“Of course,” Kurt says, distracted. He doesn’t want a half-day, he wants a snow day. A half-day means he still might run into Karofsky. 

The Powers that Be don’t listen to his prays. The tension inside him coils tighter and tighter as they get closer to school. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Finn asks as they step out of Kurt’s SUV. 

“Fine, why do you ask?” Kurt pats down his jacket and shakes out his hair when they step inside the high school. 

Finn gives him a sideways glance. “Because you’re acting weird.” They stop by Kurt’s locker first and Kurt grabs his books. 

“No, I’m not,” he snaps. 

“Are you like mad at me or something?” Finn’s wearing his kicked puppy look. 

Kurt sighs. “No, I’m not mad at you. I’m still not feeling well.” It’s not a lie, so Kurt doesn’t feel guilty saying it. Well, not that guilty. 

A tall frame in a red letterman jacket turns the corner and Kurt freezes. Terror spirals up his throat and part of breakfast follows. Kurt forces both back down. It’s not Karofsky.  _Get a grip Hummel._

“Oh, maybe you should go see the nurse.” Finn’s shoulders slump. He completely buys Kurt’s story. 

The suggestion isn’t a bad one. Kurt could go the nurse and claim sickness and be sent home. The thought is very appealing. He looks at Finns worried face and thinks,  _No._ “I’ll be alright,” he says aloud.  _I’m not going to run away. If I give Karofsky an inch he’ll take a mile._

He reaches out and touches Finn’s arm. “Really, I’m fine. Thanks for worrying about me. I appreciate it.” He does. Kurt’s never had a brother before. Hell, he’s never really had any male friends, and this protective thing of Finn’s warms him. 

Kurt gives a little push. “Go to class. I’ll see you at lunch.” 

Finn nods, looks around (probably looking for bullies), and wishes Kurt a good day. Kurt lets out his breath and rests against his locker for a second. He hears his name. Kurt waves to Mercedes and waits until she’s down the hall before saying, “You look fabulous in that winter coat.” 

She smiles, and turns around to let him see the gold flowers sewn into the back. He lets himself be taken by the conversation and as he settles down for English class he thinks,  _I can do this._


	3. Chapter 3

Except he can’t. Every glimpse of a red letterman jackets steals his breath, just as every tall, broad shouldered frame sends him into the nearest classroom seeking shelter. By the end of fourth period the snow has stopped and he has a tension headache throbbing between his eyes. The thought of going to the cafeteria to eat lunch is as unappealing as wearing overalls and going a week without showering. 

Kurt shudders at the thought. 

_ Maybe I should go to the nurse.  _ Someone opens one of the double doors to the cafeteria. The sounds of rambunctious laughter and the scent of salty fries tumble out. Kurt’s head gives a particularly rough pulse and his stomach rolls.  _Nurse it is._ He pulls out his phone to text Mercedes.

He’s grabbed from behind. 

His phone tumbles from his hand, hitting the floor with a scary sounding crack. Before he can protest, the hand around his arm grips tighter and yanks him backwards into the nearest doorway. It happens to be Mrs. Butler’s empty science classroom. Posters of the weather cycle and rock formations clutter the walls, but Kurt pays no attention to any of that.   

The classroom dorm slams shut with a rattle. Kurt is released with a shove. He stumbles, arm aching, into a desk. Fear shakes his body, and looking at Karofsky only makes it worse, but he can’t look away. The taller boy is red in the face. He’s breathing as if he’s run a marathon, but his expression isn’t tiredness or exertion. It’s anger. Pure, untainted fury. Kurt wasn’t the only one who stewed over the weekend.   

“What do you want?” Kurt hates how scared, how weak he sounds.  _He’s not going to do anything to you,_ Kurt tells himself.  _He’ll get expelled for real this time if he does._ Kurt’s not convinced. 

Karofsky grinds his teeth and curls his fingers into fists. 

_ He’s going to kill me.  _ Kurt’s sure of the fact. He knows he should call out, scream. There’s bound to be someone outside in the hall. It’s the sanest thing to do. Kurt opens his mouth, Karofsky takes a step closer, and Kurt’s breath freezes in his chest. He can’t scream, can’t shout.

Karofsky grabs his sweater and yanks Kurt into his face. “What the hell are you playing at?” The words are dark and tight. They wrap another band of fear around Kurt’s heart.   

He blinks and tears flutter in his eyelashes. Kurt can’t stop them from escaping and sliding down his face. _Please, please don’t hurt me._ The thought shakes through his head, just as terror shakes through his body. He trembles beneath Karofsky’s curled grip. 

“Please, just leave me alone,” Kurt finally stammers out. If Karofsky wasn’t so close, the words would be incomprehensible. 

Instead of releasing him, Karofsky seems to get angrier and pulls Kurt until their noses almost touch. Their legs bump together, and Kurt can feel Karofsky’s hot breath against his face. “You think you can just make fun of me like that and I’d just leave it alone?” Karofsky growls. 

It takes a second to process then Kurt says, “What?” 

Karofsky shakes him and Kurt’s feet actually leave the ground for a brief second. “Friday. The bathroom,” he states darkly. 

Kurt really doesn’t understand what he’s saying. “I didn’t make fun of you.” More worry laced fear sneaks in to Kurt’s brain. He’s always thought Karofsky was a bit crazy, but maybe he really is insane.   

“So you,” Karofsky stops and looks around, then moves in even closer. “didn’t kiss me then go tell all your little geeky friends about it?” 

The idea is so ridiculous that Kurt almost laughs. “No,” he says shaking his head. “Karofsky, I told you I’d never tell anyone about you.”  _And I’d certainly not tell anyone about me kissing you._ The thought horrifies Kurt. 

Karofsky releases him and Kurt’s feet hit the floor with a loud slap. His head goes fuzzy with momentary relief. “You weren’t making fun of me?” Karofsky sounds completely confused, which doesn’t really surprise Kurt because he’s never credited the jock with much intelligence. 

“No,” Kurt snaps. Without Karofsky’s fist at his chest and face in his personal space, Kurt’s starting to feel more in control. His fear is only lapping at his conscious instead of tidal waving. He takes a small step towards the door, away from Karofsky, and looks at the other boy to see if he’s noticed. 

Karofsky’s noticed, how can he not, with the way he’s staring at Kurt. Yet, he doesn’t make a move to yank Kurt back. So, Kurt takes another step. Then another. The door is in touching distance when Karofsky says, “Then why the hell did you kiss me?” 

 Kurt freezes, a different type of fear holding him in place. What is he supposed to say?  _Oh, I was feeling down and lonely and you were there._ Kurt turns his face toward the door and swallows.  _It feels good to be wanted, even if it is from a psychopath._ Kurt shrugs, and without turning around grabs the door handle. 

“Kurt.” Karofsky’s never said his name before. It feels strange and slightly terrifying to hear it now. Fingers touch his shoulder. The pressure isn’t painfully, just forceful. Kurt turns his head. 

“Why did you kiss me?” Karofsky’s face is still red, but the anger is gone. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth parted. Kurt catches a glance of the tip of his tongue. 

Kurt shrugs again, using the motion to push away Karofsky’s fingers. “I don’t know.” The sadness in his tone startles Kurt and he opens the door. “I need to go.” 

“Wait.” Karofsky’s hand slips into his, and Kurt finds himself being pulled back. He turns to tell Karofsky off, needing this whole thing to be over. 

“Karofsky…” he begins. 

In one quick motion he’s pulled closer, the momentum causes him to hit the jock’s chest. Air puffs from his lungs. He pushes his free hand against the body before him. Then Karofsky grabs the back of his head and kisses him like his life depends on it. 


	4. Chapter 4

The bell rings and they jolt apart. Karofsky is staring at his mouth. Kurt doesn’t know if he should slap the other boy across the face for taking liberties or jump back in and do it again. 

His lips are tingling. 

His head feels fuzzy. 

He decides to flee. 

“I have to go,” Kurt mutters. He stumbles from the classroom, chin down, cheeks flushed, and heads straight for his locker.  He fumbles the combination three times. When he finally yanks open the door, he hides his head inside and wishes the rest of his body could follow.   

_ What did I just do?  _ The thought swirls and swirls across his brain like one of those never ending electronic billboard ads.

“Hey.” 

The greeting startles him, and he slams his head against the metal locker frame. “Oww.” 

“Are you okay?” Tina’s voice is low and concerned. 

Kurt takes a deep breath, pastes a smile on his face and says, “Other than some locker scalp damage, I’m fine. What’s up?” He shoots for cheery, but by the sideways glance on the goth-girl’s face, Kurt’s pretty sure he didn’t succeed. 

She holds something out for him to see. “I found this on the floor near the cafeteria.” 

“Oh no,” Kurt moans. He gently slides his phone from her fingers. The screen is cracked down the middle. “My dad is going to be pissed.” 

“What happened?” She reaches out and touches his wrist. “Was it Karofsky?”  

Ever since the jock had returned from his expulsion turned suspension, the Glee club members have been on watch for any misconduct. Karofsky hasn’t done anything other than give him nasty looks­­­-  _and the occasional kiss,_ Kurt’s mind threw in- but it’s only been a couple of weeks, so everyone’s been waiting for the other foot to drop. 

“No,” Kurt says, shaking his head. He slips his phone into his pocket. “Mr. Levinson almost caught me with it during math, so I put it in the front of my bag. It must have slipped out when I was heading for lunch,” he lies. 

“Oh,” she says, tone doubtful. Kurt’s never been known to be careless with his things. 

He can tell she’s not convinced, so Kurt takes a preemptive step and asks, “Are you wigging out about Saturday yet?” She frowns. Kurt loops his arm through hers and guides them toward the cafeteria. There’s still another ten minutes in their lunch period. “I for one think we’re going to kick ass.” She smiles; he continues. “I can’t wait to try on our outfits. I’m going to pick them up tomorrow after school.”   

“You did a great job choosing them,” Tina says. Kurt’s not sure if she’s just being a good friend or really honest. The maroon and white outfits aren’t her style. Either way, her shoulders are relaxed and the worry is gone from her face. 

_ Mission accomplished,  _ Kurt thinks. “Of course I did,” he says.

They pass by the classroom next to the cafeteria. The door is wide open. Karofsky is nowhere to be seen. Kurt tightens his grip around Tina’s arm and squares his shoulders as they enter the chaotic domain of lunch ladies and greasy food.  Mercedes spots them immediately and waves them over. The second Kurt’s bottom touches the chair she’s leaning in, saying, “You will never believe who broke up.” Kurt nods as she gossips about Harley McFadden, one of the hockey players and his ex-girlfriend, Katie Kitchen. 

He barely pays attention. How can he, when every flash of red or opening door steals his concentration like a crow and a shiny piece of tin? 

This problem needs fixed, pronto. 

*** 

By the next morning, Kurt’s decided to use the age-old plan of denial and avoidance. After two hours of sleep and endless churning all night long, it’s the only plan Kurt can think of. He’s going to pretend nothing happened, ignore Karofsky completely, and avoid him at all costs. 

He begins his plan by stopping at the local Starbucks before school to purchase a cup of hot, liquid strength. 

“Venti, non-fat, vanilla soy late?” a blue-haired barista calls out. Kurt wades his way past the waiting business men and teenagers to the counter. 

“Dude, why couldn’t you have drunk the coffee at the house?” Finn asks as they make their way outside. Little white flurries are kissing the hood of his SUV, so Kurt flips on his windshield wipers. He flashes Finn an irritated scowl. 

“First of all, that is decafe, because Dad can’t have caffeine. And second, sometimes one just needs to start the day with a little sip of professionally brewed ambrosia.” 

Finn blinks and buckles his seatbelt. “Uh, okay.” 

Kurt knows his step-brother doesn’t get it, so he takes a too-hot mouthful of his coffee and savors sweet, burning taste. The ride to school is filled with the soundtrack to  _Rent,_ and Kurt can’t help but smile when he cuts the engine and catches Finn humming the music to  _Seasons of Love._    

“We should go to Columbus and see the off-Broadway production in April,” Kurt tells Finn. He’s riding a pleasurable caffeine high, and his previously tired mind already seems to be bouncing awake. Kurt pictures the outfits they’d wear (fashionable suits of course) and where they’d eat beforehand (that Italian place, Buca di Beppo, near the Ohio Theater). If they got permission to spend the night in the city they could even sneak into that piano bar Blaine told him about. 

Blaine. 

Kurt still hasn’t talked to him yet. Despite the fact his Karofsky denial/avoidance plan involves pretending nothing happened and everything is alright, Kurt can’t bring himself to face Blaine. He knows he can’t ignore the boy forever. However, just the thought of seeing the Warbler’s handsome face and knowing Blaine doesn’t feel what Kurt feels, well, leaves Kurt with a giant, soul-crushing pit in the middle of his body.      

“See what?” Finn’s voice drags Kurt from his thoughts. 

_ What was I talking about?  _ Kurt thinks. He looks at Finn’s questioning face and remembers. “Rent, we should go see Rent.”

“Like, the musical?” 

Finn looks confused and Kurt can’t help but think,  _Seriously, how does that boy even make it through a day?_  Then he immediately feels bad. Finn is both his step-brother and  _cute_ , and really, Kurt needs to work on being less judgmental. Tyra Banks dedicated a whole episode of America’s Next Top Model to the subject. 

“Yes Finn, the musical.” The words come out a bit more snidely than Kurt intends. He blames it on the lack of sleep and quick-working caffeine. 

Finn scratches the back of his head and says, “Oh, well that could be cool.” 

_ You really need to work on that sincerity factor,  _ and Gaga, he needs to stop.  _I just need to get to class._ Class is the best place to implement The Plan, because he and Karofsky share exactly zero classes. The homeroom bell rings, and Kurt says, “I need to get to class. I’ll see you later.”

Kurt’s three steps away when Finn jumps in and says, “Wait, let me walk you there.” 

“My homeroom is just right there.” Kurt points to the classroom across the hall. “I think I can make it in one piece.” He appreciates the over-protectiveness. He really does. Since his Dad’s wedding Kurt’s only been slushied once, and he hasn’t been shoved or side-checked at all. Finn and Mike and Puck, even the girls, have been so wonderful to him. Yet, there’s only so much protectiveness Kurt can take, and today he’s at his limit. 

He pats Finn on the arm “Thanks though.” Kurt speeds up, leaving Finn standing in the hall. He’s in his seat before the second bell rings. A few stragglers wander in, and Miss Dennison beings to take attendance. 

He’s been at school fifteen minutes and no Karofsky. His plan is working beautifully. 


	5. Chapter 5

It continues to work beautifully. Kurt glides to and from class, head held high, mind focused on school work and Sectionals. He hasn’t seen Karofsky all day, and because the Glee club members are taking lunch in the choir room the rest of the week for extra practice time, he doesn’t have to pass the classroom near the cafeteria. It’s like the world is finally working for him. 

It’s a pretty normal practice, with Rachel prattling on about her upcoming solo, and her and Finn’s duet. 

Kurt’s a little bored. He’s contemplating taking his nail file from his bag when Santana snaps and says, “You’re little boyfriend here isn’t as pure as you think. We did it last year in a motel room.” 

There’s a moment of silence. Gazes flicker from Santana to Rachel and Finn. Kurt’s mouth drops open and he thinks,  _Oh shit._   

Rachel’s face goes purplish-red and she locks onto Finn like a dog with a bone. “Is that true?” She sounds so scandalized, so hurt, that Kurt feels bad for her. 

The rest of the practice is done for. Mr. Schue has to break up a fight between Rachel and Santana. The cheerleader storms out of the choir room, Brittany quick on her heels. Then Rachel and Finn begin shouting at each other. 

“Enough!” Mr. Schuester yells. He breaks them apart then sends them both to Miss Pillsbury. 

Everyone can’t stop talking about it. “It was crazy! I thought there was going to be a throw down right there!” Mercedes exclaims. 

“I know!” Artie nods his head as they all head towards the choir room for the second time that day. 

Kurt wants to stay and hash it all out again. He knows he’ll be on the phone tonight with Mercedes doing a play-by-play while discussing possible outcomes for all parties involved. However, he has to go pick up the costumes before the shop closes and get them back so everyone can try them on.   

“I’ll see you guys later.” He waves goodbye and heads to his car. 

It’s not until he’s got hangers weighing down his arm and biting into his fingers that Kurt realizes his plan completely worked. He didn’t see Karofsky all day. Barely even thought about him. 

By the time he’s to his car, Kurt’s singing.   

*** 

Somehow, Kurt manages to avoid Karofsky all week.  Kurt is completely impressed with his stealth skills.  It’s only when third period rolls around Friday morning and Mercedes nudges him in the hall and says, “Look who’s back,” does Kurt realize he’s not as good as he thinks. 

Karofsky is standing by his own locker, Azimio and Michaels are huddled close. The jock’s head is turned towards his friends, which is why Kurt allows himself a quick stare. “He was gone?” 

Mercedes looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “He’s been out since Monday. Where have you been?” 

“Just busy with Sectionals prep, I guess,” Kurt answers.  _I guess The Plan is working a little too well._

Karofsky laughs at something Azimio says and slaps the boy on the shoulder. He turns and catches sight of Kurt. Their eyes meet, and all the air in the hall seems to disappear. Kurt can’t tell if he’s scared or excited or something in between. His chest is tight and each breath feels like it’s being sucked through a broken straw. His mouth goes dry and suddenly, he feels dizzy. He has no clue what to do. 

“Kurt, hello?” 

The sound of his name breaks the spell. He blinks and turns towards Mercedes. She’s got one hand on her hip and the other in the air near her face. Kurt realizes she asked him a question. 

“I’m sorry Mercedes,” he apologizes, “what were you saying?” 

She huffs. “Man, you are so out of it.” 

He sighs and bushes a hand across his hair. He watches Karofsky and his buddies head towards class out of the corner of his eye.  “I know. I ran out of my face scrub, and I can’t sleep well knowing that my pores are screaming at me.” It’s a lame excuse. He knows it, and from the way Mercedes is lifting her eyebrow, she knows it too. 

“Yeah.” There a second of uncomfortable silence where she’s obviously waiting for Kurt to say something. When he doesn’t, she shifts her hips and says, “I was saying that with Rachel acting all psycho girlfriend, and Finn going through an emotional crisis, do you think Mr. Shue would let us sing the solos?” 

“He should,” Kurt says with certainty.  “I mean, we’re both better than Finn and Rachel. It only makes sense to put us in.” 

Except, Mr. Shue apparently doesn’t see things that way. He announces that Quinn and Sam are going to sing the duet and that Santana is going to get the main solo. It’s like the world implodes. Rachel begins throwing a temper tantrum, even bigger than one about Finn. Meanwhile, Finn looks like he’s been sucker punched, and Kurt doesn’t feel much better. 

“Mr. Shue,” Kurt says without raising his hand or being called on. “I understand why Rachel and Finn singing a love song together isn’t the best thing right now, but you promised me that I could sing a solo for Sectionals.” 

The teacher waves the music sheets in his hands. “I know what I said Kurt, and I’m really sorry to go back on my word, but after hearing what the Warblers can do we really need to hit the audience with what they don’t have. Female vocalists and dance moves.” 

It’s a slap to the face. Kurt may not have girl parts, be he sure as hell has the same singing range as Santana. _No, not the same range. I have a better range than her._ It leaves him feeling bitter all the way to Sectionals. 

With all the sour emotions towards Mr. Schuester, dealing with Finn’s depressed moping, and not focusing on Karofsky, Kurt completely forgot that Blaine would be at the competition. Tensions are high between the New Direction members, so once they get there, Kurt claims the need for the bathroom and darts away. 

Unfortunately, he’s about thirty steps into theater when he sees Blaine across the room. He’s standing in the middle of his glee group, looking perfect. His Dalton uniform is flawlessly pressed and impeccably fitted. He’s got a huge smile stretched across his face, and it takes everything in Kurt’s power not to swoon. He’s not ready to face Blaine.   _I need to hide,_ he thinks frantically.   

Then Blaine sees him and calls out, “Kurt!” The Warbler breaks away from his flock and beelines straight towards Kurt. 

_ Oh my god,  _ Kurt thinks. He wants to flee, turn around and pretend he never saw or heard the other boy.

“Hey,” Kurt says. Sweat puddles into his palms, and he’s suddenly very grateful for the extra strength deodorant he put on before they left. 

“Hey.” Blaine reaches out then abruptly drops his hand mere centimeters from Kurt’s arm. He gives Kurt a hesitant smile. “How are you doing?” 

It’s a surface question. People ask it every day, and usually a quick, ‘fine,’ is the acceptable answer. Kurt knows it’s not really what Blaine is asking. Are you still mad at me? Can we still be friends? Are we ever going to talk again?  _Those_  are the questions Blaine is really asking. 

Kurt shrugs. “Alright.” He’s not, but he’s also not ready to tell Blaine the truth. “Nervous about the performance.” 

“Me too.” Blaine sways a little. 

The motion leaves Kurt uncomfortable. A jumpy laugh escapes his lips. “You have nothing to be nervous about. I’ve seen you guys perform. You’re amazing.” 

Blaine smiles that perfect smile and says, “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself.” 

Kurt nods. He can hear the rest of New Directions coming through the doors. Brittany and Artie are arguing, as are Tina and Mike. Kurt’s not sure what’s going on between the four of them, but things have been tense for everyone in the group. Mr. Schuester is barking out directions, most of which are being ignored. Surprisingly, Rachel is sticking with her vow of silence. Kurt sees her out of the corner of his eye, lips forced together in an epic pout.   

“Well, it’s great to see you. I need to get back to my group,” Kurt rushes out. He rocks back on his heels, ready to turn. Blaine’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. 

“Wait.” 

Kurt freezes. 

“We need to talk.” Blaine’s voice is soft and low, as if he’s scared Kurt’s going to run for it. 

_ He’s a pretty observant guy,  _ Kurt thinks. He really doesn’t want to face this. Kurt wants his glee club to snap out of their funk. He wants Mr. Shue to realize his worth. He wants to win Sectionals. He doesn’t want to have a heart-to-heart with Blaine. He flexes his hand, trying to shake off Blaine’s grip.

The Warbler just squeezes tighter. “I know this is awkward for you,” Blaine begins. Kurt knows the words are supposed to smooth things down, but they do nothing but make his spine snap straight. 

“I know it’s hard when you have feelings for someone and they don’t return them.” Blaine eyes are soft and caring. “I know from personal experience Kurt.” 

_ I doubt that.  _ Kurt can’t imagine anyone turning down Blaine’s perfect smile and charming demeanor.  _Even the straight guys._

“I know you’re hurt that I don’t want a romantic relationship with you. But wouldn’t you rather me tell you the truth than lie about my feelings?” Blaine’s rubbing small circles into his wrist, sending little spirals of heat through Kurt’s body. 

_ Talk about mixed signals.  _ Kurt’s heart feels like it’s going to shrink up and die. The corners of his eyes are burning. Still, he wants nothing more than to lean into Blaine’s body and soak up his essence.

“The truth is always better,” Kurt says, because Blaine looking at him waiting for an answer. 

Blaine dips his head and smiles. “You need to know you are an amazing guy, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend.” He follows his words with another squeeze to Kurt’s hand. 

Kurt’s stomach drops.  _The worst part,_ Kurt thinks,  _the worst part is that he’s so sincere._ He can’t be mad. Kurt wishes for anger, because that rush of rage can be pure and filling. This black whole of sadness that is sucking away at his insides is worse. 

“Kurt! Let’s go!” Mr. Schuester shouts from across the room. 

Kurt savors the momentary distraction as he glances at his instructor. Normally, he wouldn’t give in to the man’s impatient face and tapping foot. Today he jumps at the chance. He turns back to Blaine and forces his lips to smile. “Thank you,” he says. He shakes the other boy loose. “I really appreciate this.” He doesn’t, but polite is polite. 

Blaine frowns. 

“Good luck during the competition. I’ll talk to you after.” Kurt doesn’t wait for a reply. He jogs to where back room where the rest of his group is waiting. He can feel Blaine’s stare at his back, but he doesn’t turn around to look. 

If Kurt was a deity-believing man he’d pray for strength and someone to him fill the hole in his chest. 

As it is, Kurt Hummel is feeling awfully alone. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

McKinely High’s New Directions ties the Dalton Warbler’s for first place at Sectionals. The rest of the glee club members seem fine with the results. The bus ride home is filled with cheerful laughs and jokes. Previous problems seem forgotten as everyone celebrates their win. Everyone except Kurt.  

“Aren’t you glad we won?” Brittany asks him when Kurt doesn’t laugh at one of Artie’s lame joke.   

“We didn’t win. We tied,” Kurt snaps back. Fact is, he’d be perfectly fine if they tied with the old folk’s glee club. Tying with the Warblers means that Kurt’s going to have to face this thing with Blaine.  _And doesn’t that sound appealing._

Even Finn is on a high from the win. He’s smiling and rehashing everything on the car ride back to the Hummel-Hudson residence. “I was there too, you know.” Kurt barks. 

“Geeze, why are you Mr. Grumpy Pants?” Finn asks. 

Kurt just knows he stole that expression from Rachel. Speaking of, “So what’s going on with you and Rachel?” It’s kind of mean, but the question does exactly what Kurt wants. Finn deflates and stares out the passenger side window. Then he tells Kurt that Rachel tried to get back at him with sleeping with Puck. And boy, does that suck. 

 “But she didn’t?” he asks.   

Finn shakes his head. “That’s not the point. She tried. And after Quinn, I just can’t take that type of betrayal. It’s over.” 

_ At least Rachel loves you enough to care. She did it to make you jealous, because she wants to be with you forever.  _ Kurt wants to sympathize with his step-brother, he really does. On one hand, he does feel bad that Rachel cheated on him. On the other, Kurt can’t deal with Finn and Rachel’s drama right now. He’s got enough on his plate.

When they get home, Carole pulls out the chocolate ice cream for a celebratory dessert. Finn takes a heaping bowl full. Kurt eyes his Dad’s scoop with a glare but says nothing. “No thanks Carole,” he says when she offers him a bowl. “I need to exfoliate.” That said, Kurt leaves his family eating their treats and makes his way down to his room. Finn’s side is strewn with dirty clothes, school work, and the occasional sheet music. Kurt’s amazed that the boy can live like that. 

He washes his face and rubs on his cleansing mask. It needs to set for five minutes, so he pulls out his laptop and checks his email. It’s mostly junk, but there’s a list of Facebook messages. The first four are wall posts congratulating him on his victory.  The fifth is a private message from David Karofsky. 

Seeing the name makes Kurt’s stomach spasm and his brain freeze. His cruiser hovers above the link.  _Should I read it?_  Kurt twists his hands.  _What if it’s a virus? Or a naked picture?_ Kurt runs his finger across the mouse pad.  _What if it’s an apology?_ Kurt doesn’t know if he’s ready to accept an apology. 

Sighing, Kurt clicks open the link. It leads him to the message section of his Facebook page. Kurt reads the message twice. Then once more for good measure. It’s simple. Only four words. They leave Kurt even more confused than before. 

“We need to talk,” Kurt reads aloud. He looks around as if answers are written on the walls. “What does that mean?” 

He squints and reads it again.  _Nope, still the same._ He snaps his laptop shut and sets it on the floor. Stomping to the bathroom, he grabs a washcloth and flips on the water. He doesn’t even wait for it to get warm. He just wets the cloth then scrubs the mask off his face. 

_ How dare he,  _ Kurt silently storms. His skin stings but he doesn’t gentle his motions. Twisting around, he whips off a dry towel and drags it across his face.  _I don’t want to talk to Karofsky._ He crushes the towel in his fist. _How dare he write me a message, like we’re boyfriends or something._

Kurt throws the towel onto the counter then marches back into his room. In one quick motion he scoops up his computer, flips it open, logs onto Facebook and replies,  _No._

Before he has time to blink, there’s a response in his message box. 

_ Don’t be a bitch. I need to talk to you. _

Kurt sees red. “Oh, like I really want to talk to you now,” he snaps, as if Karofsky can hear him through the computer screen. 

Another message pops up in his inbox. Kurt slams his finger down on the touchpad. 

_ Please. _

A surprised sigh escapes his parted lips. In the history of Lima, Ohio public school, Kurt can’t remember a time when Karofsky uttered the word please towards him.  _I can’t even remember a time when any boy my age directed a please my way._

His fingers hover above the keyboard, mind whirling. “I guess things can’t get worse,” Kurt mutters. 

_ Okay,  _ he types.  _Where and how?_  The message is sent. He taps his fingers against his thigh and waits for a reply. A red notification box flashes at the top of his screen. He scrolls his cruiser to the inbox and clicks the message open. His lungs begin to sting. He realizes he’s been holding his breath.

_ Stop it,  _ he tells himself.

Kurt reads the message.  _Do you know where the technical college is? Let’s meet in the parking lot of the main building. 30 mins?_

_ Thirty minutes?  _ Kurt glances at his clock. It’s already nine fifteen. The college is about a ten minute drive from Kurt’s house. That would only leave twenty minutes to get ready. “Get ready?” Kurt mocks. “It’s not like this is a date.”

_ Fine,  _ he types. He clicks send before he can think it through any further. “This will be good.” Kurt tells himself. “We’ll talk like human beings and settle things like adults. Then I won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Decision made, Kurt allows himself a deep breath before shutting his computer and sliding off the bed. He pulls out a pair of jeans and trades them for his dress pants.  _If I’m going to have run, I’d much rather do it in a stylish pair of Lucky jeans._ He purposely doesn’t remember that he bought these jeans because they made his ass look fantastic. His face is still blotchy from the rough removal of the face mask, but Kurt decides that putting on concealer would be going too far. So instead, he changes his shirt to pale blue sweater. A navy scarf wrapped loosely around his neck ends his preparations. 

“Dad,” Kurt says as he heads up the stairs. Burt, Finn and Carole have all made their way to the family room and are watching some DVR’d football game. Burt twists on the couch. “I’m going to go to Mercedes’ house for a quick post-show recap.”   

Burt frowns and looks at his watch. “It’s nine-thirty buddy. Isn’t it a bit late for you to be heading out now?” 

Kurt sighs and puts a hand on his hip. “Dad, I’m sixteen and it’s a Friday night. It’s not that late.” Burt’s still frowning, so Kurt adds, “Besides, it’s not like I’m going out to make-out with a guy. I’m just going to Mercedes’. We’re going to talk about the competition and probably watch The Sound of Music.” He’s flushes and prays no one notices. Lying to his dad has always seemed like a great betrayal. Lying about this seems even worse. 

“Seriously Burt,” Carole says from her place at his side. “Let the boy go. In fact, why don’t you go with him Finn?” 

_ Sweet Gaga,  _ Kurt thinks. Finn looks horrified and they both start speaking at the same time.

“Well, Mercedes and I really need some best friend time.” 

“I’m really behind in Spanish class. I was planning to study tonight.” 

_ Study? Seriously?  _ Kurt shoots Finn a disbelieving look.

Finn looks from Kurt to Carole to Burt. “Uhh,” he stammers. “I’m going to go downstairs now.” Finn jumps to his feet and dashes to the basement door. 

Kurt looks back towards his father. 

“Burt,” Carole says again. 

The man sighs and says, “Alright. Curfew is eleven.” 

“Twelve?” Kurt asks hopefully before remembering that he isn’t actually going to Mercedes’ house. “Nevermind, eleven is fine.” 

“Okay, you drive a hard bargain, but you’re right. You’re sixteen and it’s a Friday night. Twelve it is.” 

_ Oh great, now I’m going to have to stay out until midnight or he’s going to think something’s wrong.  _ “Thanks Dad.” Kurt forces a smile then darts forward to press a kiss to his father’s cheek. “No more ice cream tonight.” He gives both adults a meaningful look then heads towards the door.

“Have fun,” Burt says as Kurt’s slipping on his jacket. 

Oh yeah, lots of fun. 


	7. Chapter 7

James A. Rhodes State College was once known as Lima Technical College. It is affectionately known as the “Little College that Could” by most Lima residents. Ever since it was renamed after the former Ohio governor almost a decade ago, its student base has grown exponentially. Still, three thousand students doesn’t call for a giant-sized campus, so even though Kurt’s only passed by before and never been inside, he’s pretty sure that the main building is the largest of the three. 

_ The one that’s in the middle and two-stories,  _ Kurt thinks. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to go to a three-building campus when there are bigger and better places to be had. Even in the Buckeye State.   

The three buildings create a U-shape around a large parking lot. A stucco-white sign names the area. It’s lit by a small, pale light. Besides the few front lights on at the main building, the lite sign is the only light in the area. Kurt considers turning on his brights, but decides they won’t make much of a difference. The place looks desolate. There are four cars parked closer to the main building. Karofsky’s blue truck towers over the other, smaller sedans. 

Kurt takes his foot off the gas and slams it on the brake.  _What if he’s going to murder me?_ The thought sneaks up like a wicked snake and wraps itself around Kurt’s brain.  _He did threaten to kill me._ His mouth goes dry.  _But that was before we kissed,_ Kurt brain amends.  _Twice._

“Don’t be silly Kurt,” Kurt tells himself. “If Karofsky wanted to kill you he wouldn’t have sent a Facebook message or asked you to meet in such a public place.” His breaths whispers throughout the car, and he swears that a cricket chirps. Snow begins to fall. “Okay, that’s it. I’m going home.” 

A horn blares through the parking lot. It startles Kurt enough that he bites his lip. “Oww.” He touches the area and winces. It’s not bleeding, but it sure hurts. The horn sounds again. “Shut up Karofsky,” Kurt growls. I can see you there.” Anger creeps beside his fear. He pushes his car forward, gunning into the spot next to the jock. 

As soon as Kurt cuts his engine Karofsky does the same. He doesn’t wait for the other boy to get out first. Kurt just shoves open his door and hops out of the SUV. A snowflake hits him on the nose and he shivers.  _Great night to be outside,_ Kurt thinks with a frown. He hurriedly buttons up his jacket and flips up the collar. He’d left his gloves in his other coat.  _As least I still have a scarf._ He adjusts it around his neck for maximum coverage. 

Karofsky’s door slams shut. Kurt’s gaze snaps forward. They’re not far from the lights attached to the building, so Karofsky is easy to make out. He’s wearing a pair of sturdy jeans and his signature letterman jacket. He comes around the front of his truck but stops at the curb and stares at Kurt. 

“Hey,” he says. His hands are stuck in the pockets of his coat. His feet are still, but his body rocks back and forth. 

_ I wonder if he’s cold,  _ Kurt thinks. Then he realizes.  _Oh my god, he’s nervous._ Karofsky’s eyes keep pulling to the ground, as if looking at Kurt is painful.

“Want to go inside?” Karofsky asks. 

Kurt scrunches his nose. “Inside?” 

“Yeah. I’d thought we could talk out here, but it’s cold.” 

_ No, really? _

“How are we going to get inside?” For one second Kurt imagines a spectacular spy scene where he and Karofsky bond over breaking and entering. 

Karofsky pulls his hand from his pocket. Keys dangle from his fingers. “My dad works here. I’ve got keys.” 

Going inside sounds like a wonderful idea, but Kurt’s not too sure about being in an unfamiliar place with Karofsky. A harsh gust of wind howls through the parking lot. “Okay,” Kurt says, shivering. 

The other boy nods and heads towards the front door. Kurt trails behind him. With a silver key and a swipe card baring the older Karofsky’s face, the two of them are inside. The main lights are off, but every so often there are dim nighttime lights lit above.  Kurt spies a row of chairs in the lobby next to what must be the secretary’s desk. He turns toward the seats, but Karofsky doesn’t stop walking. Kurt has no choice but to follow. 

“Where are we going?” They turn down a long hallway full of closed doors. At first Kurt thinks they’re classrooms, but when he stops for a moment to peer inside he realizes they’re offices. 

“To my dad’s office. I told him I was going over Azimio’s house. He asked me to stop here and pick up some papers.” 

“Oh.” They stop at room one hundred and eleven. The letters are small and the hall is dark, but if he squints, Kurt can read ‘Mr. Paul Karofsky, Associate Professor’ on the nameplate. Karofsky fumbles with his keys then shoves a small one into the lock. The door opens inward. The jock flips on the light as he steps inside. 

It’s bigger than Kurt gave it credit for. Two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves are pressed together at the back of the room. There’s not an inch of empty space on either. An L-shape desk takes up the major of the room. A desktop computer sit on the little part of the L, and neat stacks of papers and file folders clutter the larger side. There is a small, worn loveseat against the front wall, facing the desk. A metal folding chair sits beside it. 

Kurt hovers in the doorway as Karofsky darts inside. “Uh, you can sit down,” he mutters toward Kurt as he searches his dad’s desk. Kurt nods and sits on the edge of the metal chair. He feels hot and uncomfortable, and just wants to get everything over with. 

“So,” he starts, opening his hands wide. “What did you want to talk about?” 

Karofsky freezes then slowly turns around. He’s crumbling the papers clutched in his hand, but at Kurt’s raised eyebrow Karofsky drops them back onto the desk. “I…” he begins then abruptly cuts off. He comes around the front of the desk and half leans, half sits on the edge. He swallows. It looks painfully. 

“You…” Kurt urges. 

Karofsky looks down at his knees and says, “You confuse me Hummel.” 

It’s not what Kurt expects, but he’s not completely surprised.  He doesn’t really know how to respond to the statement though, so he just waits. After a few moments of empty silence Karofsky sighs and continues. “You’re just…” he pause then curls his hands into fist and lays them on his lap. “The way you dress and act, everyone knows you’re gay. It doesn’t bother you.” Karofsky’s voice sounds harsh, as if each word rakes over his throat like a bur.   

Sympathy bubbles at the center of Kurt’s chest. His own throat seems a bit tight. “I know it appears like being gay is easy for me, and it’s definitely better than it was, but Karofsky, coming out wasn’t a piece of cake.” 

His head snaps up and he stares are Kurt disbelievingly. 

“In hindsight, I realize that many of my tendencies give away my sexuality, but before I came out, I didn’t know that.” Kurt stands, because his legs are starting to jump and the way Karofsky is looking at him is making him anxious. “My dad is a man’s man. He likes sports and classic rock. I didn’t know how he was going to react. I thought he might disown me and throw me out.” Kurt can easily recall the terror he felt at coming out to his dad. “I’ve always known that I was different, but I didn’t really know or understand that I was gay until junior high. I knew I was gay four three years before I told my dad. Before I told my friends.” The words fly from Kurt’s mouth. He feels winded at the end of them. 

Karofsky chest heaves and he pushes away from the desk. The motion brings them inches apart, but the jock doesn’t even appear to notice. Kurt wants to move back, give some space, but he’s afraid that any movement might set Karofsky off. So instead, he peers at Karofsky and watches as emotions slide across his face. Fear. Loathing. Anger. 

“I…” Karofsky stops and shakes his head. 

_ Self-hatred,  _ Kurt identifies.  _Karofsky hates himself._ The realization leaves him cold.  _I need to do something._ So, he reaches out and touches Karofsky’s arm. Karofsky’s eyes go wide and fly from his arm to Kurt’s face. Kurt licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “You’re gay.”

Karofsky shakes his head again. “I…” 

“You’re gay.” Kurt says, words straight and true. 

“No. I…” Karofsky starts, but Kurt cuts him off. 

“You are gay, and it’s fine.” 

Karofsky bites his lower lip and squeezes his eyes shut. Kurt can see his eyelashes glisten, and suddenly, there are tears in his own eyes. “I’m gay,” he whispers, sounding broken. Karofsky lowers his head. Kurt can’t take the sadness. He moves forward and wraps his arms around the bigger boy. Karofsky buries his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt can’t tell if he’s crying, but he doesn’t let go either way. 

“It’s okay,” he says while rubbing small circles on Karofsky’s back. 

Eventually, Karofsky pulls back. Kurt drops his arms and looks at him. Red, blotchy patches mar his face. His eyes look puffy and pink. Kurt doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anyone so miserable. “What am I going to do?” Karofsky asks. 

Kurt rocks onto his heels and thinks. He knows what  _he_  would do, but he’s not sure if that means much. After a moment he says, “Well, you don’t have to do anything.” 

A confused chuckle escapes Karofsky’s mouth. “What?” 

Kurt gives him a half-smile. “Karofsky, this is your life. If you aren’t ready to come out to your friends and family, then that’s your choice. You’re allowed to take time for yourself and figure things out.” 

“Doesn’t that make me a coward or something?” He sounds bitter. 

“By whose standards? Who are you comparing yourself to? Me?” Kurt touches his own chest. “First of all, I’m multitalented and amazing, so you can’t compare yourself to me.” Karofsky rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tip up. “Second of all, you aren’t me. You need to do what feels right for you.” 

“Ya?” 

Kurt can still hear doubt in the other boy’s voice, but his tone is lighter than it’s been all night. “Ya,” he mimics. Karofsky ducks his head and smiles.  It a real one, with teeth showing and happy eyes. 

“Thank you.” 

It’s the most heartfelt appreciation Kurt’s ever heard. It causes his chest to fill with contentment, and feeling playful, he gives Karofsky a teasing thump to the chest. In a quick motion, Karofsky snags Kurt’s hand and brings it to his mouth. He twists until Kurt’s palm is facing upwards and presses a kiss to his wrist. 

Kurt’s knees go wobbly. 

Eyes glued to Kurt’s face, Karofsky kisses the spot again. “Karofsky, I don’t really think this is the time…” 

“Please.” 

And how can he say no to that? Swallowing, Kurt gives a little nod. Karofsky smiles and slides his arm around Kurt’s back. He brings their mouths together. The kiss is just as electrifying as all the other have been. Pleasure tingles across Kurt’s lips and travels down his spine. He runs his hands up and down Karofsky’s back. The feel of his muscles beneath his coat and shirt has Kurt imagining what they’d be like bare. 

“You’re amazing,” Karofsky rasps when they break apart for air. They’re the same words Blaine used, and though Kurt knows Blaine meant them, when Karofsky says them they seem real. When Karofsky says them, Kurt  _believes_  them. 

His face feels hot, and with the way Karofsky is staring at him- like he’s a filet mignon cooked to perfection- he feels even hotter. He tugs at the buttons of his coat. The second he tosses it to the chair, Karofsky is against him. Kurt’s legs hit the arm of the couch, but Karofsky doesn’t stop until they’re both lying atop the cushions. 

Both of their legs dangle off the side, but Kurt really doesn’t care about that. Karofsky’s weight drives down on him. Shoulders and chests, groins and legs touching. Kurt’s never been so turned on in his life. He yanks at Karofsky’s hair, demanding his lips back in place. They kiss, tongues dancing in and out of each other’s’ mouths, until Karofsky shifts above him and Kurt realizes,  _Holy shit, that’s his erection pressing against mine._ He tears his mouth from Karofsky’s and slams his eyes shut. He tries imaging Rachel and Finn making out, but that doesn’t work. 

“What the matter?” Karofsky’s breath is hot against his face. 

“If we don’t stop I’m going to come,” Kurt answers honestly, because he can’t think clear enough to lie. 

“Oh,” Karofsky says then nips gently at Kurt’s jaw. Kurt shudders and grabs at Karofsky’s shoulders. Stubble scratches at his chin as Karofsky moves lower. He cries out when the jock’s mouth locks onto his neck. A hand slides under Kurt’s body and grabs at his ass. Their groins grind together. Karofsky groans, loud and vulgar, and Kurt’s done for. He throws his head back and comes.   

Karofsky thrusts against him, sending little aftershocks of pleasure spiraling through Kurt’s brain. Then he stills. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Kurt whispers. Karofsky smashes their mouths back together, kiss sloppy and wet. 

_ Oh,  _ Kurt thinks.  _Oh._


	8. Chapter 8

Karofsky comes back from the bathroom clutching a handful of wet paper towels. Kurt’s moved from sprawling to sitting on the loveseat. “Here,” Karofsky says, thrusting them towards Kurt. 

“Thanks.” He stands and turns his back. He cleans himself off the best he can, which isn’t great, because he’s still wearing his underwear and jeans. Stuffing his hand down his pants with a wad of paper towels without flashing Karofsky isn’t the easiest thing he’s ever done. Now that the endorphins have worn off, Kurt’s feeling nothing but itchy and awkward. Karofsky doesn’t look much better. 

When Kurt’s all zipped up and the paper towels are thrown in the trash, Karofsky jams his hands in his pockets and asks, “Uh, what now?” 

Kurt looks at every wall in the room, searching for answers. Eventually, he comes back to the other boy. He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He’s starting to feel tired. This whole night seems like a strange dream. “I really don’t.” 

Karofsky nods and presses his lips together. He looks at Kurt’s chest when he asks, “Do you want this to happen again?” 

“I guess.” It doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement, and Karofsky isn’t stupid, despite Kurt’s previous misgivings. 

His jaw tightens and Karofsky says, “We better get going. My dad’s going to wonder where I am.” He turns his back to Kurt and picks up a stack of papers from the desk. 

“Look,” Kurt says. Karofsky twists around. “This is just as weird for you as it is for me.” 

The jock snorts. “Somehow I doubt it.” 

That pisses Kurt off. “Well, since this was my first time rutting against another boy, my first time doing anything with anyone else, and according to rumors about you and Brittany, it’s not yours, I think I’m just as freaked out as you.” 

Surprise flickers across Karofsky’s face. His mouth pops open. “What about that pretty boy from the prep school?”    

“We’re just friends.”  _Maybe._

Something unreadable flashes across Karofsky’s eyes. “Oh.” The tip of Karofsky’s tongue pokes from his lips. It’s his classic thinking pose, but Kurt can’t help but think of where that tongue’s just been. 

_ Okay, maybe I do want to do this again.  _ “I do,” Kurt blurts out. Karofsky’s eyes narrow. “Want to do this again,” he adds. “It was pleasurable.”

“Pleasurable?” Karofsky says, lifting his eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” Kurt says, and Karofsky laughs. Kurt’s anger slides away. 

“So are we going to be friends with benefits then?” He sways forward and slips his hand around Kurt’s waist. The awkwardness of the whole situation defuses as a new tendril of lust spirals from the touch. 

“We’re not friends,” Kurt says. He pushes his legs against Karofsky’s and brushes his nose against the other boy’s. Then he nips at Karofsky’s bottom lip. “Maybe enemies with benefits.” 

Karofsky laughs again. Kurt feels the rumble against his chest. “Enemies with benefits. That works for me.” He presses against Kurt, and Kurt can feel the half-hard arousal through their jeans. 

_ His recovery time is quite impressive.  _ He hooks his hands behind Karofsky’s neck as their lips compete for control. Kurt’s seriously considering a second round when his phone beeps out a loud text message. He ignores the sound, but when two more beeps quickly follow he rasps, “Hold on.” Kurt fumbles his phone from his jacket pocket. The screen is still cracked.

_ Dude, you’re late,  _ reads the first message. The next two are,  _Burt’s looking worried,_ and,  _Are you dead?_

“Shit,” Kurt curses. 

“What’s a matter?” Karofsky’s voice is rough, as if Kurt had sucked all the moisture from his mouth. 

Kurt fires a reply back to his stepbrother then says, “It’s past my curfew. I need to go home.” According to his phone it’s already twelve-eighteen. 

“You have a midnight curfew?” Karofsky asks disbelievingly. 

Kurt runs a hand through his hair. He knows it’s a mess. His cheeks are still burning and his erection is pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. “Yes, I have a midnight curfew.” He takes a step back from the jock. “Let me guess, you don’t have one.” 

“Nope,” Karofsky says, mouth tilted sideways in a smug smile. He reaches out and runs his thumb over Kurt’s bottom lip. “Too bad you do.” 

Kurt shudders. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Stop it. I’m already going to be in trouble.” 

Karofsky looks like he wants to throw Kurt back down on the sofa, but he nods and heads towards the door. Kurt waits while he turns out the light and locks up. It’s still snowing outside, harder than before. The grass and sidewalks are slick with fine layers of white, but the parking lot still is holding enough sun to melt the snow. 

When they get to their cars, Karofsky walks Kurt to his door. “So…” Kurt says. His nose is already cold. He fingers his car key and looks at Karofsky. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

It’s so cliché that Kurt lets out an undignified huff. 

“No, seriously.” Karofsky bumps his knees against Kurt’s. “Do you have plans tomorrow?” 

He’s supposed to go to the mall with Mercedes, Tina and Artie at one, and he told his dad he would help in the garage in the morning. He flashes on what he could be doing with Karofsky and says, “I have to help my dad in the morning, but I’m free in the afternoon.” 

“My parents are going to Columbus tomorrow for a Buckeye football party. They’ll be gone all day. Do you want to come over?” 

Kurt’s not sure he’s ready to go to Karofsky’s place, but it’s better than going somewhere they’d be noticed. “Yeah. I’ll text you when I’m done with my dad.” 

Karofsky smiles and gives Kurt his number. Then he leans in for another kiss. Kurt lets it happen for a wonderfully tingly second before pulling away and saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gets in his car and blasts his heat and defroster. Karofsky waits in his car until Kurt’s ready to drive. Kurt tries not to find that sweet. 

The ride home isn’t enough time to figure out his thoughts, but one thing is clear in Kurt’s mind,  _This night is not what I expected._ He spots his house. The lights are still on.  _Not at all._


	9. Chapter 9

To make up for the fact he was a half an hour past his curfew Kurt has to work at the garage until nearly two. He mostly files papers and enters invoices into the computer, but towards the end of his service Burt needs his help doing a few oil changes and screwing on tires. Kurt ends up with grease under his nails and smeared across his jeans. He knows better than to wear nice clothes when helping his dad at the garage, but it still irks him to get dirty. 

He shoots his dad sulky looks until finally Burt says, “Alright, I think you’ve earned yourself some fun.” 

Kurt stops fussing with his nails and hops up from the stool. “Really?” 

“You don’t have to sound so gleeful,” Burt says with an amused look. 

“Dad,” Kurt says, “You know I love spending time with you, but Express is having a one day sale and everyone is already there buying up all the good clothes.” It’s a lie. The sale last two days, and Kurt fully plans on stopping by the mall tomorrow. 

“Go,” Burt says, waving his hand. 

Kurt kisses his father on the cheek and chirps a quick, “Thanks,” before heading straight to his car. He starts up the engine and sends Karofsky a text.  _Just got finished at the garage. I have to go home and shower, but I’ll be over after. What’s your address?_ He only has time to buckle his seatbelt before his phone is beeping. 

_ Or you could come over and shower here. _

“Oh Gaga.” The image of Karofsky and him the shower together, bodies pressed against one another as water cascades down, makes all his blood flow south. Kurt taps his phone. It only rings twice before Karofsky picks up. “Only if we actually shower,” he says as soon as he hears Karofsky’s breaths. 

“I never said anything about us showering together,” Karofsky says teasingly. Kurt’s never heard the boy sound like that before, and the tone makes his heart double beat. “Your mind’s just in the gutter.” 

Kurt splutters. “I don’t have to come over at all.” There’s not a chance of that happening, because he already canceled with his friends. There are orgasms to be had. Kurt’s mind can’t travel far from that thought.   

“Don’t be a tease.” 

Kurt laughs. If Karofsky was here right now he’d flutter his eyelashes and stick out his hip. “It’s only teasing if I don’t follow through.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Really. In fact, I’d call this flirting.” The words fly from Kurt’s mouth, light and airy. 

Karofsky’s inhales on the other side of the line. “Who would have thought? Kurt Hummel flirting with me.” 

_ It is strange,  _ Kurt thinks. He’s been afraid of Karofsky for so long, that never in a million years did he think he’d be driving to the boy’s house to hook-up. That isn’t the strangest part. The strangest part is that he’s  _excited_. He can’t wait to have Karofsky’s hands all over him. Kurt shivers at the thought. “You live in McGuffey Ridge right?” Kurt vaguely remembers Puck saying something of that nature a while back. The mohawked-teenager had been planning to egg Karofsky’s house.   

“Yeah.” Karofsky gives him directions to his house. 

“I’ll be there in five minutes. I hope you have some decent smelling body wash.” Kurt doesn’t wait for Karofsky’s response. He just ends the call.  _I’m like a man of mystery,_ Kurt says, delight zinging through his nerves. 

He drives past a CVS and almost stops to get lube and condoms. He pulls into the parking lot then changes his mind.  _What if someone sees me?_ There’s no way to explain buying condoms.  _Besides, I’m not ready for that._ Kurt’s always dreamt of giving away his virginity to Prince Charming. At one point he’s thought that was Blaine. Now, it’s a nameless hero.  _In the meantime, I can practice my other skills with Karofsky._

McGuffey Ridge is a decent neighborhood with older, two-story brick houses. Karofsky lives at the end of a court. The front law boasts a leafless ash tree and a large mulch bed that wraps around both sides of the house. A small porch swing hangs empty near the front door. As Kurt knocks he can’t help but notice that the swing could use a new coat of paint. 

He hears Karofsky before he sees him the in the window of the door. “Hey,” Karofsky says. He steps back to let Kurt inside. 

“Hey,” Kurt says. He stomps his boots against the mat. It had stopped snowing mid-morning, but the snow had stuck to the ground and Kurt’s shoes. 

Karofsky tugs at the back of Kurt’s coat. “Here, give me your jacket.” Kurt shrugs out of it and watches as Karofsky hangs it in the closet in hall. His letterman jacket is already dangling inside. Kurt doesn’t have much chance to see the jock without his signature jacket. Wearing a letterman jacket makes one a god at McKinely High, so most of the jocks wear them year round. The only time Kurt remembers seeing Karofsky without the yellow and red status symbol is at the meeting with their dads and Ms. Sylvester. Kurt wasn’t paying attention to Karofsky’s clothes at the time. 

Now, however, he’s looking. Karofsky’s wearing a slightly wrinkled blue polo. The top few buttons are undone, and the collar is half up in the back. Kurt can see a few dark hairs at the open V of the shirt. The sight makes his mouth flood with saliva. “Taking my coat? How civilized,” Kurt says, because being a bitch is his natural fall back when he’s feeling anything uncomfortable. 

Karofsky doesn’t seem to mind the attitude though. He chuckles and says, “Yeah, imagine that. I’m not a complete barbarian.” 

Kurt doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he stares at the other boy instead. Karofsky stares back for a tense second. Then he lunges forward, takes Kurt’s face between his hands and smashes their mouths together. The kiss isn’t romantic. It rough and wet, and has Kurt hard in zero to sixty flat. He can’t get his tongue against Karofsky’s fast enough. 

“God,” Kurt moans when they pull apart for a quick breath. 

Karofsky looks dazed. His eyes are wide and his pupils are blown. His skin is flushed red and he’s panting like a race horse.  _I did that,_ Kurt thinks. He moans again and yanks Karofsky back in for another electric kiss. They make out in the foyer until Kurt feels dizzy. 

Loud gulps fill the room as both boys struggle for air. Karofsky blinks and says, “You’ve got dirt on your jeans.” 

It takes a minute for the words to process through Kurt’s lust-addled brain, but when they do he says, “I was working at a garage.” An eyebrow is lifted in his direction. Kurt knocks the look off Karofsky’s face by saying, “How ‘bout that shower?” 

Karofsky glances up the stairs then back towards Kurt. He’s redder than before and Kurt can’t help but notice the outline of Karofsky’s erection through his jeans. “Sounds good,” Karofsky rasps out then takes his hand and leads Kurt upstairs. 


	10. Chapter 10

The bathroom is simply decorated with a navy blue shower curtain and matching towels. It’s not overly large. It has one of those shower-tub combinations, a toilet, and a sink with counter space that wouldn’t sit half of Kurt’s beauty products. The space feels crowded as soon as Karofsky’s shuts the door behind them. Then it doesn’t matter because Karofsky’s in his space, pressing him against the door. His thigh slips between Kurt’s. Kurt can’t help but hitching up and wrapping one leg around Karofsky’s waist. He meets the other boy’s mouth halfway.

One of Karofsky’s hands squeezes Kurt’s ass. Kurt wrenches his mouth away and buries his head in Karofsky’s neck, groaning. The jock’s other hand travels up and down Kurt’s side, pulling at his shirt. After a few passes, fingers slip under the hem and skate up Kurt’s skin. On a downwards sweep, Karofsky trails his palm across Kurt’s stomach. The wave of heat that follows makes Kurt shudder and lose his balance. His leg slips from Karofsky’s waist and his foot hits the floor with a solid thump. 

Karofsky uses Kurt’s momentary distraction to grab edge of Kurt’s shirt and yank it over Kurt’s head. He isn’t expecting it, so Kurt just stares hazily from his bare chest to where Karofsky threw his shirt on the floor. Karofsky’s gaze doesn’t move from where it’s locked onto Kurt’s exposed skin. His hands are curled into loose fists, as if the jock can’t decide what to do with them. His mouth is hanging open. Kurt can hear every inhale the other boy takes. 

In that second Kurt has a realization.  _I’m going to be naked._ Logically, he knew that he would be naked. After all, that’s what taking a shower entails. But for some reason, Kurt didn’t make the connection that to take a shower with Karofsky meant that he would be taking off his clothes-  _all of them_ \- in front of the other boy. 

The thought cools Kurt’s lust. It doesn’t seem to damper Karofsky’s. He pulls off his own shirt, and even though Kurt wants to look, he forces his eyes away. They land on the shower curtain instead. Needing something to do, Kurt rolls it away from the front of the shower and leans inside. It’s a typical setup. A silver bathtub facet sticks out from a white tub. Hot and cold turn-handles sit on either side of the facet. The shower head is higher up the wall. 

Kurt hears the rustle of clothes behind him, and then the metal-clicks of zipper-teeth being undone.  _Karofsky is taking off his pants._ Kurt feels his face flush. Fortunately, his skin is already pink from lip-locking, and the embarrassment blends right in. He fumbles with the water controls, letting the sound of rushing water cover his pounding heart and Karofsky’s heaving breaths. He sticks his hand under the water, purposely not turning around. The temperature is still too cool for his taste, so he twists the hot-water handle to the left and the cold-water to the right. 

Suddenly, Karofsky’s body is pressed against him-  _Oh my god, that’s Karofsky’s naked hip against my side-_ and the larger boy is wrapping his hand around Kurt’s under the cascade of water. 

“Dude, are you trying to burn yourself?” Karofsky says in his ear as he drags their hands from water. Kurt looks at the redness of his skin. Karofsky reaches into the tub and turns up the cold water then yanks up shower mechanism. The shower head spurts to life.   

“Sorry,” Kurt mummers. Karofsky takes his hand and turns it sideways, getting a better look. Kurt drops his hand and says, “It’s fine.” 

Karofsky shifts beside him. Kurt purposely looks at the water swirling around the drain. “Okay, what just happened?” Karofsky asks, confusion and frustration easily heard in his voice.    

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt denies. 

“One second we’re sucking-face and the next you’re freaking out.” 

_ Busted.  _ “I’m not freaking out,” Kurt snaps. He bypasses everything below the neck and glares at Karofsky’s face.

Karofsky eyes narrow and his eyebrows dip into the space above his nose. He stares a Kurt for a second then slowly says, “Are you embarrassed?” 

“What? No!” Kurt takes a step back. Karofsky’s chest pops into view. His shoulders and pecs are amazingly muscled, and while he doesn’t have Mike Chang’s abs, his firm stomach is still a sight to behold. His nipples are dark pink and Kurt can’t stop imagining running his tongue over them. 

A grin spreads across Karofsky’s face, making him look unusually boyish. “You are! You’re embarrassed.” He steps forward, hand reaching towards Kurt’s belt. “You don’t have a stupid tattoo or something?” 

His fingers touch Kurt’s belt buckle and Kurt jumps backwards. “Wait.” Karofsky freezes, his look morphs from playful to worried. “First, I would never mar my creamy-white flesh with a tattoo,” Kurt says. He takes a deep breath then continues. “Second, I’ve never been naked with another boy before.” 

Shock flashes across Karofsky face. “Seriously? I thought you were on the football team last year?” He pauses. “What about Finn?” 

Kurt throws up his hands and scrunches his nose. “Eww, Finn is like my brother.” Kurt likes to forget the year he spent fawning after the boy like an abused puppy dog. “And I was only on the football team for about three weeks. I never changed in the locker room because it made the other boys uncomfortable.” 

“Oh,” Karofsky states. “So, I’m the first guy you’ve seen naked?” 

Kurt wants to point out that he’s been a gentleman ( _wimp)_ so far and hasn’t looked beyond Karofsky’s chest, but instead he says, “Well, the first real guy.” 

Karofsky snorts, then looks Kurt over. A gleam of mischief enters his eye. He reaches out and drags a curved finger down the center of Kurt’s chest. “How do I hold up?” 

The words break some sort of barrier in Kurt’s mind. His gaze drags downward. Karofsky’s got strong legs. His thighs could hold Kurt tight. Dark, short hairs start near his ankles and travels all the way up to his groin. He’s not an ape, but he’s definitely hairy then Kurt thought he’d ever like.  _Well, that clears up that misconception,_ Kurt thinks. He follows that trail of hair until it thickens, swirling around Karofsky’s half-hard erection. 

The sight steals Kurt’s breath. The jock obviously has been affected by the break in their play, he’s not the steel hard that Kurt felt earlier, but he’s definitely still interested. Karofsky isn’t as long as some of the men Kurt’s seen in videos, but he’s thick. He isn’t circumcised, which Kurt finds interesting. The tip of his erection is wet with precome. 

_ Yep, I’m definitely gay,  _ Kurt thinks. As if someone has hijacked his body, Kurt is stretching out and running his fingertips down Karofsky’s length. It twitches beneath his touch and Karofsky moans. Encouraged by the sound, Kurt sways closer and wraps his whole hand around Karofsky’s dick and strokes.

“Shit,” Karofsky curses. 

Kurt brings his mouth close to Karofsky’s and says, “You’re definitely not chubby.” 

Lightning flashes in Karofsky’s eyes and he takes control. Yanking at Kurt’s belt, he fumbles it loose. This time Kurt helps instead of hinders. As soon at the clasp is open, Kurt pops the button on his jeans. Karofsky jerks them down. They get stuck at his knees, but when Kurt lifts his leg to shimmy them down Karofsky shoves his hand down the back of Kurt’s underwear and cups his ass. Skin to skin, the feeling is electrifying. Kurt heaves his body forward and almost trips. 

“Hold on; hold on,” he mumbles into Karofsky’s mouth. He bites at bottom lip before him while kicking off his shoes. His socks and pants take more concentration. Kurt has to step back and use his hands. His palm is slight sticky-  _from Karofsky’s precome, holy shit-_ but he touches his jeans and socks anyway. As soon as his clothes hit the floor he kicks them to the side. 

“You are so beautiful,” Karofsky says, sounding strangled. His gaze is running laps up and down Kurt’s body. 

“Shut up,” Kurt says then throws himself forward. 

Karofsky braces them from falling with a quiet, “ompf,” then latches onto Kurt’s neck. This time both of his hands find Kurt’s ass; they squeeze and massage until Kurt feels like he’s going to burst. He twists, bringing their erections together. They’re both equally hard, and the slide of that hot, silky skin against Kurt’s makes Kurt grab Karofsky’s hair and detach him from Kurt’s neck. Karofsky makes a small sound of protest, but when Kurt forces their mouths together and begins a round of tongue fucking, Karofsky’s moans change from protesting to eager grunts. 

Kurt is letting Karofsky bare their weight. His legs feel like jelly, and the only things he can focus on are the heat and slickness of Karofsky’s mouth and arousal.  _I need to come. Now._ A brilliant idea strikes him. He thrusts his erection against Karofsky’s then wraps his hand around both of them. 

Karofsky’ breaks their kiss and moans as if Kurt shocked him with a live wire. His legs buckle and he stumbles backwards, pulling Kurt with him. For one second Kurt thinks they’re going to fall into the shower. Then Karofsky releases a hand from Kurt’s ass and grabs the edge of the tub. The rim isn’t large, maybe a hand’s width at most, but Karofsky swings one leg into the tub and settles the other on the bathroom floor. His back is against the wall. Apparently settled enough for the moment, he drags Kurt into his lap. 

Kurt complies. He straddles Karofsky’s legs. His own ass touches the edge of the tub, but his erection is snug against Karofsky’s. It’s the perfect position for Kurt to hook one arm around Karofsky’s neck for balance as their lip and tongues thrust back and forth. His other hand goes back to their arousals. Kurt presses them closer and strokes them both in quick, rough movements.   

It doesn’t take long. Four, five, six strokes and Kurt’s coming. He spurts between them, covering his hand, Karofsky’s hardness and both of their chests. Pleasure, pure and shocking, spirals everywhere, stealing his breath, his thoughts, his energy. Kurt slumps forward, unable to even keep his mouth against Karofsky’s. 

The jock doesn’t seem to mind. He clutches Kurt against his chest and wraps his own hand around his erection. Kurt can’t even manage to help.  With a gasp Karofsky comes into his fist. Kurt can feel Karofsky shuddering against his body. He thinks he should probably say something, but his liveliness is still splattered between them and doesn’t appear to be returning anytime soon. 

His head rests against Karofsky’s chest. The boy’s heartbeat thunders beneath Kurt’s cheek. 

“Holy shit,” Karofsky says. 

The words echo across the tub and inside Kurt’s brain.   _Yeah, holy shit._

 


	11. Chapter 11

When Kurt comes back to himself, he realizes that the shower water has gone cold. He shivers and swings his leg out of the tub. He doesn’t feel ready to stand, so he just places both feet flat on the bathroom floor and rests.  Karofsky still straddling the edge of the bathtub; he doesn’t seem intent on moving. His head is tilted back, and his eyes are closed. Kurt can see the long stretch of Karofsky neck and the rise and fall of his chest as he regains his breath.

Just when things start to slide from pleasant afterglow into uncomfortable silence, Karofsky says, “That was fucking amazing.” 

Kurt laughs. “Definitely gay, huh?” 

Karofsky snorts and replies, “Definitely. It was nothing like that with Brittany or Santana.”   

Kurt chooses to ignore the references to the girls and instead focuses on the positive.  _Look at how easily he’s admitting to being gay. Just yesterday he was breaking down. Today he’s joking._ “Yeah, me too.” Karofsky raises an eyebrow and Kurt realizes how that could sound. “I mean, I’m definitely gay too.” 

The jock snorts again. “Yeah. I didn’t have any doubt of that.” 

The assumption pisses Kurt off. “Just because someone likes fashion and singing doesn’t mean they’re gay,” he snaps. “That’s stereotyping.”  _Karofsky should know that more than anyone._

Karofsky raises his hands. “Dude, I don’t want to fight with you right now. It’s ruining my buzz.” 

Kurt splutters,  _wouldn’t want that, now would we?_ Still, he swallows down his retort as well as his annoyance.  Karofsky rolls his eyes and stands. Kurt can’t help but stare at the mess on both of their stomachs. “Now I really need a shower.” He reaches over and turns up the hot water, praying that there’s some left. The cold water turns warm. It’s not as hot as Kurt likes, but he figures if he gets in quick he might get out before it runs completely cold. 

“I’ll go get some more towels,” Karofsky says and leaves the bathroom. 

Kurt steps inside the shower. He‘s starting to feel awkward. He yanks the shower curtain shut and reaches forward to grab the shampoo bottle. It’s a generic brand, and Kurt stares at it in horror. He pops open the lid then brings the bottle to his nose. It smells like the stuff that comes out of the soap dispensers at the mall. 

The bathroom door opens again and Kurt hears Karofsky’s footsteps. Kurt has a moment of panic,  _Is he going to get in the shower with me?_  His heart starts to pound.  _Stop being stupid,_ he tells himself. He and Karofsky just gave each other spectacular hand jobs.  Taking a shower with the boy isn’t anything.   

Setting the bottle back on the shelf in the shower, Kurt sticks his head outside of the curtain. “Do you have any shampoo and conditioner that aren’t made by Kroger?” Kurt eyes the bar of soap sitting in the little dish. “And body wash?” Karofsky sets the pile of towels on the toilet seat then stares at Kurt.  _He looks a little like a deer in headlights¸_ Kurt thinks. The jock’s eyes are wide and his mouth is open. 

“Uh…” Karofsky says then rubs the back of his head, showing off a decent amount of underarm hair. “My mom might have some.” Kurt just looks at him and waits. After a moment of uneasy silence, Karofsky says, “I guess I’ll go see.” He pads out of the bathroom. Kurt gets a look at a firm ass, and suddenly, his own mouth is open. 

_ Definitely not chubby,  _ Kurt thinks for the second time.  He gets back under the warm spray and splashes the water over his messy skin.

“Here.” Two hands stick around the side of the curtain holding three bottles. 

_ Herbal Essences, not bad.  _ Kurt smells both the hair products. They’re meant for women with colored hair, but Kurt figures he can’t have everything.  _At least they smell good._ The body wash is still a generic brand, but it’s pink and smells like raspberries. Kurt figures that’s acceptable too.  _Hair or body first?_

“Can I come in?” Kurt can see the outline of Karofsky’s body through the shower curtain. He’s struck by how _big_  the boy actually is. Big shoulders, big hands, big feet. 

_ You know what big feet mean,  _ Kurt thinks, then snorts at himself.  _You know how big that is too. You just had your hand around it._ Kurt stares at his hand.  _I gave a boy a hand job._ He flushes.

“Hello?” Karofsky says, voice soft. 

“Sure,” Kurt replies.  Karofsky doesn’t come in right away. His hand wraps around the shower curtain and pauses. Kurt counts seven heartbeats, then without fully pulling back the curtain, Karofsky steps inside. His eyes rake over Kurt then quickly look away. Kurt swallows down the lump in his throat. 

Standing this close to each other, Kurt realizes they’re almost the same height. Karofsky has maybe an inch on him, but in heels or lifts, Kurt would be taller than the other boy. Somehow, the thought calms his nerves. _Courage._ The word- Blaine’s word- pops into Kurt’s head, and he almost laughs.  _I don’t think this is what Blaine meant when he told me to be courageous with Karofsky._ Still, the feeling applies. 

Kurt shoves the bottle of body wash towards Karofsky. “Here, wash my back,” he demands, turning around. He pretends to ignore Karofsky’s surprised look and squirts of the shampoo into his hand. As he works it into his hair he hears Karofsky squeeze some of the body wash into his own hands. He’s expecting the touch, but Kurt can’t help himself from jolting forward when Karofsky slides his slick hand across Kurt’s back. 

_ Calm down,  _ Kurt tells himself. He massages the shampoo into his hair. He feels soapy bubbles traveling down his skin. Karofsky’s hands are still near his shoulders. Kurt takes a subtle breath. “Hold on. I need to wash my hair.”

Karofsky’s fingers disappear as Kurt turns around. Karofsky’s whole face looks tense. He’s obviously clenching his teeth, and his normal hazel eyes are dark brown. Kurt doesn’t know what to make of the look, so he closes his own eyes and dips his head back into the water.  He threads his fingers through his hair, scrubbing out the shampoo.  He can’t hear anything but cascading water, so when fingers skim up his stomach, Kurt jerks in surprise and swallows a mouth full of water. 

He leans forward, coughing. Karofsky’s fingers leave as the jock starts laughing. “Sorry,” he says between snickers, sounding anything but.  “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Yeah,” Kurt wheezes out when he gets his breath back. He tries to glare at Karofsky, but the boy is so obviously amused that Kurt can’t help but shake his head and chuckle too. 

The tense atmosphere disappears.  Water hits Kurt’s back. Some of his hair has fallen in his eyes. Karofsky’s hair isn’t even wet yet. Kurt looks at Karofsky’s sideways grin and for the first time in a long time he doesn’t want to run away in fear or jump the boy’s bones. It’s a pleasant feeling. 

“I think we need to talk about what this is. What it’s going to be,” Kurt says. 

Karofsky’s smile shrinks; his eyes tighten. “I think it’s pretty good how it is,” he replies. 

Kurt shakes his head. Droplets of water splatter against Karofsky’s chest. “Karofsky,” Kurt says, “we both want this to continue.” Some of the tension in the jock’s eyes fades. “But how are we going to make this work? We’re obviously not going to be doing this at school.” Karofsky licks his lips and nods. “We’re not boyfriends. We’re not going to walk around at the mall holding hands. We need to figure out where we can meet, and what our boundaries are.” 

The water is starting to cool. Kurt holds up a finger. “But first we need to get clean before this shower is an icebox.” He squints. “So no funny business,” he adds jokingly. 

Karofsky nods again and hands Kurt the conditioner while picking up his own, bland shampoo. “Dave,” he says. 

Kurt wrinkles his nose. “What?” 

“My name is Dave. I think that’s a good start.” 

_ Dave,  _ Kurt thinks. He’s never thought of the other boy like that before. He isn’t Dave. He’s Karofsky, the hockey-turned-football player. The jock. The bully.  _But he’s not just that now is he? He’s something new now._ “Okay,” Kurt says. “Let’s finish our shower, Dave.”

Kurt turns his attention to his hair, but he doesn’t miss Karofs- Dave’s- smile. 

It feels good too.    

 


	12. Chapter 12

** Part 12  **

They set ground rules. No seeking each other out during school. No talking when people they know are around. No mentioning each other to friends and family members. The plan is to pretend nothing has changed. 

“Though if you shove or threaten me anytime, this will be over faster than one of Santana’s hook-ups,” Kurt tells Dave. Dave heartily agrees. 

They’re allowed to text and email each other, and for now, they plan to only hook up at Dave’s house or his father’s office. “He trusts me with his keys, and once the sun sets, it’s rare that any students or faculty hang around.” 

Kurt considers typing it all out so they both can have a copy, but when he suggests that to Dave, the jock raises his eyebrows and says, “Uh, seriously?” So instead, Kurt goes over everything again, snapping his fingers when Dave’s eyes start to go out of focus. 

“Hello,” Kurt says, “this is important.” 

Dave blinks. “I know, you uh, just get all pink when you’re talking a lot. It’s kind of distracting.” 

Kurt sighs and shakes his head. “Focus, or this isn’t going to work.” 

“No macking at school or pretending we like each other. Pretty simple.” 

It does seem simple when Dave puts it like that, and Kurt feels a little silly for his worry. “I just don’t want this to become a big scene.” 

“I thought you like big scenes?” Dave says. 

Surprise steals Kurt’s breath for a moment.  _I do like big scenes,_ he silently admits.  _I just can’t believe Karofsky knows that._ Kurt presses his lips together.  _Dave. Not Karofsky._ It’s going to take some getting used too. 

“Okay, so Friday? You’re Dad’s office?” 

Dave nods. “Yeah, we could even go after school if you want. Since winter break starts the building empties out early.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Then that’s that. 

Easy as pie.   

*** 

Kurt’s riding high when he gets to school on Monday. He has five days of classes before two glorious weeks of winter break. The pressure of sectionals is over, and according to Mr. Shue, Glee will be spent singing holiday carols. His is ass is looking mighty fine (if he does say so himself) in his new pair of Express jeans. A new phone sits in pocket, traded out for free for his old one at the AT&T store with some fast talking and puppy-eyed begging by both him and Finn. Kurt has to admit that sometimes Finn’s idiotic look is great for sweet talking green-eyed college girls. 

“Dude, look what I found in the drama room,” Finn shouts from across the hall. Kurt looks up from adding the Shopper app. to his iPhone.  His step-brother is holding a beaten-up cardboard box. Something red and shiny pokes out from the top. Finn lowers the box. “Christmas tree decorations!” 

“Oh. Great,” Kurt says. 

Finn’s excitement drops a level. “You don’t like them?” he asks forlornly. 

“It’s not that I don’t like them. I’ve just found that anything left over from the drama department has been left for a reason.” Kurt tilts the box back and peers inside. There’s a string of red garland looped around a bundled of tangled lights. A handful of golf-ball sized ornaments lie in a smaller box. They all look like they’ve been made by kindergartens. The only decent looking thing is a silver star tree-topper. Kurt pulls it out. “Where are these supposed to go?” 

Finn grins, looks around, then leans forward. “Brittany and Artie got a tree for the Glee room.” 

“How in the world did they sneak that in?” Kurt asks. McKinely’s officially policy is that nothing religiously related is allowed to adorn the classrooms. Many of the teachers have small decorations in on their desks, but if Ms. Sylvester catches them, well, there’ll be hell to pay. 

“I don’t know.” Finn shrugs. “Christmas magic.” He smiles at Kurt. 

“Oh, come on,” Kurt sighs, tugging on the box. “Let’s go put this stuff away.” Finn smiles again and heads toward the Glee room. 

Kurt rolls his eyes but follows anyway. Nothing can spoil this week. 

*** 

Tuesday passes just like Monday, full of smiles, impromptu carols for the McKinely residents, and holiday cheer. 

Then Wednesday dawns. 

Kurt is slipping his French book into his bag when all of a sudden a rough shove sends him whacking into the metal locker. Pain lances through his forehead, making his teeth ache and his stomach roll. He twists around, ready to confront his attacker. Cold, wet slushie hits him just as hard as the shove. 

He doesn’t have to look through the red ice to hear Azimio’s cruel laugh.  “Merry Christmas fag,” the football player hisses. 

Misery wells in Kurt’s chest, aching as much as his head and burning more than his skin.  _Don’t cry,_ he tells himself. Stiffly, Kurt curls his fingers around the strap of his bag and walks to the boys’ bathroom. There are two boys chatting near the urinals, but when Kurt comes in, they dash away.    

He jerks his body to the closest sink and yanks the hot water tab to the left. He empties the paper towel dispenser and begins to wipe away the cold slushie. The collar of his sweater is ruined. There’s also a long red streak down the middle of the soft green material where a clump of ice had slid down Kurt’s chest. A bluish-black bruise is already spotting on his forehead. 

_ How am I going to hide that?  _ Kurt runs his finger along the edge of the bruise then flinches as the light touch makes his head aches.  _Dad is going to freak._ The thought makes worry spike through his mind. Even though his dad had been doing well lately, the doctor said that any stress is bad for a heart attack patient.  

Tears prick at the corners of Kurt’s eyes.  _Stop it._ His mouth feels dry, his whole body throbs with his head. He fumbles in his bag and pulls out a small bottle of Advil. He pops two in his mouth, cups his hands in the still running water then swallows both pills and warm water down in one quick gulp. There’s an after taste of cherry from his lips and fingers. His stomach reels. Thankfully, he’s only steps away from the bathroom stall. His knees hit the tiled ground in a painful thump, and then the pills, water, breakfast bar are coming back up his throat. 

He doesn’t hear the bathroom door open, but he does hear Tina’s exclamation, “Oh Kurt,” then he feels her hand on his back. He looks back at the Goth girl and sees Mercedes standing behind Tina. 

“Can you get me something to drink?” he whispers. 

Mercedes nods and twists her bag around her body. She yanks out a yellow Gatorade from a side pocket and hands it Tina. Tina unscrews the lid and holds it out for Kurt. Her fingers don’t leave his back as he sits up and drinks down half the bottle. “Thanks,” he says softly. 

He stands and wobbles. Tina loops her arm around his back and helps him out of the stall. Mercedes takes his other side and both girls help him back to the sink. “You look bad,” Mercedes says. She chews at her lip. “You should go to Mr. Figgins.” 

Kurt uses the last paper towel sitting on the edge of the sink to wipe his mouth. “What good would that do?” he asks bitterly. She shrugs and looks at the floor. 

“I think you should go home,” Tina says. 

Kurt considers the option. He’s not feeling well. The cold from the slushie is gone, but his head aches and he feels like a rock has settled in his lungs, making it hard to breath. But if he goes home his dad will know. “I’m okay,” he tells the girls. Both look at him as if he just said he found a great outfit at Wal-Mart. “This is just an opportunity to use my creative make-up skills.” 

“Kurt,” Mercedes utters. 

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “Now both of you get out of here before someone comes in and catches you in the boy’s bathroom.” 

They share a long look, speaking in the girl eye-language Kurt has yet to crack.   

“Okay. We’ll see you in English class,” Tina says slowly. “If you feel sick or anything, go to the nurse’s office.” 

“I will.” 

“If you need anything let us know,” Mercedes adds. 

“I will,” Kurt says again.    

Tina squeezes his shoulder and Mercedes shoots him one last concerned look before leaving. As soon as they’re gone, Kurt hangs his head above the sink and take deep breathes.  _Everything is fine. Just fine,_ he tries to convince himself. He unscrews the lid from the Gatorade and finishes off the drink.  _Get out your emergency kit and fix yourself up._ Kurt shuffles through his bag and pulls out a blue make-up bag. Inside are two Tide-sticks, a bottle of concealer and application sponge, a gold and brown pallet of eye shadow, a package of hand wipes, a mini bottle of hand sanitizer, another travel sized container of Advil, and a pair of white headphones. 

Sighing, Kurt takes two more of the pain pills, because the ones he took before are flowing through McKinely High’s plumbing system. Then he dabs his face with a hand wipe, catching all remaining traces of the slushie and his regurgitation. Next, he does his best to cover the spectacular bruise that’s forming on his forehead. Each brush of the sponge has Kurt grinding his teeth and taking a deep breath. 

The bell to first period rings, signaling the beginning of class.  _Great, now I’m going to be late._ Mademoiselle Dubois comes down hard on tardiness.  _A detention would just make this day perfect._

Kurt looks at himself in the mirror one more time and decides that his face is not going to get any better. The bruise is barely visible, but he looks pale and uncomfortable.  _I feel pale and uncomfortable._ He puts everything back into his bag then reaches down to pick it up. A wave of vertigo hits him along with a surge of pain.   _Work faster,_ he tells the drugs. 

For some reason, they don’t listen. 

*** 

By lunch time his headache is well on its way to a migraine. Kurt’s eyes feel like they want to roll out of his head and even his teeth ache. Artie’s sunglasses are helping with the bright lights of the cafeteria, but overall, Kurt wants nothing more than to crawl under his comforter and sleep the world away. He twists his fork through his salad, mixing the spinach around until it sits soggy at the bottom of the bowl. Kurt’s trying hard to ignore the sea of red letterman jackets at the table across the room all the while doing his best to pay attention to the story Rachel is telling. He knows it has something to do with the Academy Awards.   

“Are you even listening?” Rachel asks. 

Kurt lifts his face in her direction and says, “Academy Awards.” Rachel hums, like she doesn’t quite believe him, but then continues talking anyway. He contemplating throwing away his lunch and heading to the media center for a little quiet time when his phone beeps at him. 

Kurt picks it up and reads,  _r u ok?_

Anger floods him.  _Did u know he was going to do that?_ Kurt types back. He forces himself not to glance at the table of jocks. 

_ I knew he bought the slushie. Didn’t no that he was gunna throw it at u. _

Kurt thumps both elbows on the table and uses both hands to respond.  _So u were going to let him throw it at someone else?_

There’s a longer pause than before, but then his phone beeps back.  _Uh, yeah. That’s what we do. We’re acting normal, right?_

_ Right,  _ Kurt texts back.

Acting normal. It is what they agreed upon. Fury lodges in Kurt’s throat.  _What am I doing?_ he asks himself. _Karofsky is a bully. He’s only acting nice to you because you’re jerking him off. That doesn’t make him a good person._

Kurt sets his phone down because he’s afraid he’s going to break the screen with his grip. Suddenly, Mercedes is leaning into his side. “Who’s Donkey Kong?” she asks, bewildered. 

Kurt almost responds with,  _who?_ Then he remembers it’s the name he assigned one David Karofsky in his phone contacts. He looks at Mercedes’ face and thinks,  _Boy, that was a smart move on my part._

“It’s Blaine,” Kurt says. “It’s an inside joke.” 

She raises her eyebrow. “So you two are working out your fight?” 

“How did you know we were in a fight?” Kurt asks, surprised. 

“Kurt, you go from talking about nothing else to not mention the boy for a week.” She shrugs. “I figured you had fought.” She points her finger at him. “I know how you are when you fight with your friends.” 

A wave of guilt hits him.  _I should have told her what happened between Blaine and me. I’m a bad friend._ His phone beeps. 

Mercedes steals it before he can get it and reads the message aloud, “Are you mad at me?”  She wiggles the phone. A wave of longing congests his chest. He wants to tell her everything. He wants start with Blaine’s rejection then cry about this situation with Karofsky. 

_ What should I do?  _ he wants to ask.

_ Help me,  _ he craves to plea.  

_ It feels good,  _ he needs to explain.

“Well, are you?” she says. 

Kurt snatches his phone back and replies, “I’m allowed to hold on to my anger.” 

She rolls her eyes. “You are such a diva.” 

He stuffs his phone into his pocket and glances at the jock table out of the corner of his eye. He can see Karofsky at the end of the table, phone in hand. The boy looks up and catches Kurt’s gaze. Kurt swings his eyes back to Mercedes. “Isn’t that why you love me?” 

She laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You know it.” 

Kurt smiles, the first real smile of the day. “Come on, let’s go talk to Josh McFarlane in the media center.” The sweet-natured geek always cheered both of up. Her grin widens and he stuffs his phone into his pocket. He loops his arm through hers and heads towards the cafeteria doors. He lets Mercedes guide the conversation, and not once does he look back at David Karofsky. 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Somehow, Kurt avoids his dad and Carole all evening. He doesn’t have to fake a headache to skip family dinner. Finn’s preoccupied with Rachel drama, and Kurt’s masterful distraction techniques have his step-brother focused on everything but Kurt’s business. Stretched out on his bed in his new room, Kurt huddles under his covers and listens to Kelly Clarkson sing about heartache. The television is on downstairs, and though Kurt can’t make out the precise show, it’s nine o’clock on a Wednesday night. They’re probably watching  _Criminal Minds_. 

_ You could go down there,  _ Kurt thinks. He can settle on the couch next to Dad, lean into his body and share Dad’s warmth. Carole will rub his back or thread her fingers through his hair. Finn will gag anytime the show flashes anything gruesome and jump up excited when they begin the final chase down at the end of the episode.  _Then someone will notice the bruise on my forehead, and I’ll have to explain what happened. Dad will get angry and want to storm the school. His stress will triple and he’ll be in danger of another heart attack._

So, instead of going down to share in the comfort of his family, Kurt just turns his music a little louder.  He gets out his phone and reads his friends’ Facebook posts. Just when boredom begins to let in bad thoughts, he gets a text message. 

_ Hey,  _ it reads.

Kurt sits up and stares at the screen.  His earphones fall out. The word isn’t special. It’s a three letter greeting that he encounters a thousand times a day. Sometimes that one syllable word is followed with a question like, “what’s up,” or “what’s going on?” Kurt waits for something like that to follow. Nothing does.   

Such an insignificant word shouldn’t have the power to send his heart into overtime or make his palms slick with sweat. For a moment, he considers throwing his phone across the room. Instead, he finds himself texting back.  _Hey._

There’s a moment where the sound of his breathing overpowers the quiet murmur of the television downstairs as well as the steady hum of the heater. Then his phone rings. It shakes in his hand, and startled, Kurt fumbles it. Luckily, the phone doesn’t have far to fall. He scoops it off the bed and hits the accept button. “Hey,” he says, as if he’s expecting a snake to dart out and strike.   

There’s no mirrored greeting. Just, “Can we be friends again?” The words wrap around Kurt’s heart and sooth some of burns of the day. Even if Kurt never heard the other boy sing, he’d recognize the strength in that voice.   

Kurt’s throat tightens, but he manages to force out, “Yeah.” 

There’s a sigh on the other side of the line. “I’ve missed talking to you Kurt. I’m sorry things blew up.” 

_ Things,  _ Kurt thinks.  _My heart._ Still, Kurt doesn’t blame the other boy for not returning his feelings. “I’ve missed talking to you too, Blaine.” A wave of longing has Kurt falling to his pillows. He curls his body and holds his phone close to his ear.

“Did you catch the latest issue of Vogue?” Blaine says. 

Kurt takes the peace offering. “Of course,” he replies.  _See, this isn’t so bad._ “Angelina Jolie looked amazing, as usual.” 

Blaine laughs, and Kurt’s stomach flutters. “I have a question, more so a request to make of you,” he says. 

“Oh?” Kurt traces the edges of his phone with his finger. His ear is starting to get warm from the pressure of the phone. 

“I’m going to be performing at King’s Island over the holiday and I was wondering if you would mind practicing with me?” Blaine’s voice is sure, as if asking is only a formality. 

“You mean sing with you?” 

“Yeah. Would you mind coming to Dalton after school tomorrow? Or I could come there if that’s better.” 

“No, I’ll come there. It’s no problem.” It’s only a forty-five minute drive. Kurt’s heart is thumping loudly in his chest. Sing with Blaine. It’s like something out of Kurt’s dreams. 

Blaine responds happily. “Great! So around four?” 

Kurt will have to skip Glee practice, but they’re only doing carols, and he can  _sing_  with  _Blaine_ instead. “Sounds wonderful,” Kurt says with a delighted chuckle. 

“See you then,” Blaine says. 

“See you then,” Kurt retorts.  _It’s a date,_ Kurt thinks. 

He stays up late, dreaming. 

*** 

After Wednesday’s incident with Azimio, Kurt’s fellow Glee clubbers don’t let him out of their sight all day. Finn sticks by his side until first period (after giving Kurt a somewhat confusing lecture about trusting one’s family where he mentioned father penguins). Then Brittany and Santana loop their arms through his and sit at the desks to his left and right during class. 

The whole day goes like that. Puck tells him about Lauren’s bad-assness during the walk between math class and ceramics. Mercedes and Tina spend the whole afternoon staring every guy in a letterman jacket, daring them to come closer and push Kurt around. Kurt catches sight of Karofsky when they pass by the media center. Their eyes meet briefly. Kurt flashes to their time in Karofsky’s bathroom, and Karofsky’s mouth latched to his neck. He flushes hot and looks away. 

Kurt appreciates his friends’ sentiments; he really does. Getting knocked around, slushied, and slurred at doesn’t leave him feeling bubbly. However, by the end of the day Kurt’s skin is itching from the never-ending babysitting. He’s definitely ready to go see Blaine. 

He makes his excuse to Mr. Schue. “Sorry, my dad needs help at the garage today.” Mr. Schue waves him off, and with a kiss to Mercedes cheek and a promise to call her later with Blaine-shaped details, Kurt makes his way down the emptying halls of McKinley High. 

The parking lot is still pretty full of cars from the remaining teachers and students. Kurt weaves around the parked vehicles, multitasking by texting Blaine and letting him know he is leaving for Dalton. He gets to his SUV and shuffles his bag around to stick his phone inside and grab his keys. A hand touches his shoulder. 

“Gaga!” he shouts, dropping his keys. He twists and almost elbows Karofsky in the head as the other boy reaches down to pick up Kurt’s keys. He steps back into the car to avoid a collision. 

“Here,” Karofsky says, shoving the keys into Kurt’s hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he mumbles. 

A surge of anger slams into Kurt’s chest. “What are you doing?” he hisses. He scans the parking lot. Kurt can make out bodies in the lobby of the school, but they’re too far away for him to identify. There’s no one else in the lot. It’s too cold for students to wait outside for rides. 

Karofsky steps away, bumping into the green Civic parked next to Kurt. He rests against the car and sticks his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he says, looking at the pavement. “You didn’t return any of my texts yesterday.” 

“Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to talk to you,” Kurt snaps. His face is starting to sting. It’s not snowing yet, but by the look of the clouds flurries are a certainty. 

“Look, I’m sorry Azimio was such an asshole, but I don’t understand why you’re mad at me. I didn’t do anything.” The jock sways back and forth, either trying to generate warmth or hurry along the conversation. 

Kurt shoves his hands under his arms. “It’s not what you did. It’s what you didn’t do,” Kurt growls. “You knew Azimio bought that slushie, and even if you didn’t know it was meant for me, you knew it was meant for somebody.” Karofsky’s eyebrows draw together and his mouth pulls tight. “It’s not okay to throw slushies at people.”  _It’s not okay to shove them into lockers or call them names._

“But that’s what we do,” Karofsky says. Then as if think Kurt’s not getting him, he adds, “All the jocks. We throw slushies at the losers.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Karofsky flushes red. He knows he’s just chucked shit. 

“Well, if I’m such a loser I’ll do you a favor and disappear.” Kurt spins and shoves his key into the car door.   

Fingers grab him again. Kurt tenses then forces himself to relax. He turns back around. Karofsky face is inches from his. “Look, Karofsky.” The other boy’s face goes dark. Kurt sighs. “Dave. I know we’ve had a breakthrough. What happened over the weekend? It was remarkable. You self-realization and acceptance will help you live a better life.” Kurt licks his lips. “The sex? It was great. You know it was. But I think we need to stop.” He shrugs. “Like you said, you’re a jock and I’m a loser.” 

Karofsky’s face drops. Anger creeps in. “What? No, we’ve already worked this out. You promised you’d help me figure things out.” 

Kurt shrugs his shoulder from Karofsky’ grip. “I don’t think having a secret gay affair is going to help you figure things out.”  _It’s sure not going to help me. I need to be around guys like Blaine who are out and proud._

Laughter spills from the school lobby as a group of freshman pile outside, making their way towards a red mini-van hovering out front. Karofsky steps back from Kurt and voice low, says, “We need to talk 0about this. Not here.” 

Kurt nods, because yeah, the school parking lot isn’t a great place for a throw down of words and fears. 

“Meet me at my Dad’s office tomorrow after school,” Karofsky demands. 

Kurt shakes his head. “I’m not going to meet you at the place we had planned to hook up.” 

Karofsky frowns. “It’s the only place we can meet without anyone else around.” 

_ Without anyone from school around,  _ Kurt hears.

Still, it does make sense. More students come outside. “Fine,” Kurt agrees. “After Glee.” 

Karofsky nods then walks away. Kurt doesn’t wait to see where he goes. He gets inside his car. His phone beeps. 

_ Can’t wait to see you!  _ Blaine’s text reads.

Kurt starts the car.  _Karofsky isn’t healthy,_ he thinks. Blaine’s face pops into his head. He remembers the first time they met, and the way the Warbler had taken his hand. Kurt can’t stop himself from smiling. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

“So what are we singing?” Kurt asks as Blaine leads them through Dalton’s magnificent halls. Kurt takes a sip of his coffee, letting the warmth of the drink heat his mouth the same way Blaine ordering and paying for it had warmed his chest. Blaine takes Kurt into what appears to be a large study room, complete with high arched ceilings and dark, mahogany tables. Three couches create a U in front of a lit fireplace. Kurt can’t help imagining lounging here with his head phones and a good book.  _What a different world,_ he thinks. 

Setting his dock on a nearby table, Blaine takes his iPod from his pocket and scrolls through a playlist before setting inside. “Well, I’d thought we start with Baby, It’s Cold Outside. It’s the main song I’m singing in my performance.” 

_ Baby, It’s Cold Outside?  _ Kurt’s heart flutters. “Okay,” he says aloud. “I love that song.”

“I knew you would,” Blaine says. “Here, take off your coat.” He tugs at Kurt’s collar and Kurt unbuttons the front and obligingly slips it off his shoulders. Blaine smiles and folds it over a chair. 

Kurt sets his coffee down. “Want to start?” 

“Man, you jump right in.” He laughs, as if Blaine finds Kurt’s eagerness endearing. 

Kurt blushes. “Why waste time?” He is starting to feel like they’re having two separate conversations. 

Blaine flashes him a good natured grin and bends to turn on his iPod. A sweet symphony of instruments- _piano, trumpets, violins,_ Kurt identifies- waltz into the air around them, making Kurt giddy. He turns, leaning his hands against the back of the nearby chair, and begins to sing. “I really can’t stay…” 

Blaine dips forward, pressing his hands together, breath glossing along Kurt’s skin. “But, baby it’s cold outside.” They sing, voices melting together. Blaine dances around him, making Kurt’s head swirl and his heart swoon. “Your eyes are like starlight now,” Blaine croons, fingers brushing by the side of Kurt’s face. 

Kurt twists, tucking his head over his shoulder, and gives Blaine a coy look. “To break this spell.” Blaine smiles and continues to sing. Kurt shuffles his feet, backs himself against the couch, and braces his hands against the leather. “I ought to say, no no no sir.” Blaine sways closer. Kurt can feel the heat of his skin. 

“Mind if I move in closer?” 

“At least I’m gonna to say that I tried.” 

Blaine leans into his space. “What’s the sense in hurting my pride?” He holds his hand up. 

Kurt smiles and dips his head. “I really can’t stay,” he pushes away from the couch and slips by Blaine’s side. Their thighs touch. Blaine reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand, twirling him back inside his side. 

“Baby, don’t hold out.” 

Kurt sucks in a breath and sings, “Oh, but it’s cold outside.” 

Their hands slide apart and Blaine spins towards the fireplace, leaving Kurt to follow. They continue the song. Kurt feels something building in his chest. Every smile, every melodic word, and barely-there touch winds Kurt up like a toy about to be released. “My sister will be suspicious.” Kurt runs his fingertips along the mantle. 

“Gosh your lips look delicious,” Blaine purrs. Kurt’s lips tingle. He’s close enough to smell the vanilla coffee on the Warbler’s breath. Just an inch more and their mouths would touch. They whirl around the couch again, Kurt’s front pressing against the back while Blaine’s knees dip into the cushion. Their fingers settle beside one another for a moment before Blaine lifts both hands and brings them near Kurt’s face. “Ooh, your lips are delicious.” 

Kurt puffs against Blaine’s hovering fingertips. “There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” Kurt follows the line of the couch, fingers tracing a path across the top of the cushions. Blaine follows Kurt with his eyes, his body swaying place. 

“Think of my lifelong sorrow.” 

“At least it will be plenty implied.” Kurt twists around the edge of the couch, heads towards Blaine. 

“If you got pneumonia and died.” 

Kurt stops before his knees touch the Warbler. “I really can’t stay.” 

Blaine’s grin lights up his face. “Get over that hold out. Ooh, baby…” 

“…Oh, but…” Blaine reaches out and gives Kurt’s shoulder a guiding tug. Kurt follows the boy into the seats below. Together they finish the song. “It’s cold outside!” 

The music on the iPod continues on, piano fluttering notes along with Kurt’s racing heart. The song turns over morphs into another winter melody. Neither Blaine nor Kurt move from the couch. Their breaths echo across the room. Kurt’s never had such a romantic moment. His heart is whispering sweet nothings into his mind.  _Just lean in a kiss and him,_ Kurt thinks. He looks at his friend from under lowered eyelashes. Blaine’s face is red, but he’s grinning and his eyes are bright. 

“That was awesome,” Blaine says, breaking Kurt’s thoughts. 

Kurt chuckles. “It was.” They share smiles and Kurt says, “Too bad they wouldn’t let us sing that at your show.” Blaine raises his eyebrow questioningly. Kurt stomach drops a little and he adds, “I mean two men.” 

Blaine looks into his eyes and says, “Well, you’re better than any girl I’ll sing with.” The words warm Kurt’s whole body. 

“Thank you.” Kurt locks his fingers together because his hands keep drifting towards Blaine’s leg. Then Kurt thinks,  _Why can’t I touch his leg?_  Kurt unlaces his hands. He raises his face and looks at Blaine. 

“Caught your breath?” Blaine asks. His lips are full. Kurt can see a hint of pink tongue and white teeth. 

_ Just do it.  _ Kurt takes a deep breath, curves his fingers over Blaine’s knee, and leans forward. For one beautiful second, Kurt can feel the heat of Blaine’s skin, the moisture of his breath. Blaine smells like sweet coffee, Hollister cologne, with a subtle hint of starch.

Then Blaine’s body jerks back, and Blaine cries out, “Woah, Kurt what are you doing?” His hands lift before him, as if he needs a barrier between Kurt’s body and his own. 

Kurt’s throat squeezes shut then collapses into his stomach. Blaine stands, leaving Kurt struggling for air on the couch. He unbuttons his Dalton jacket, runs a hand through his hair, and then buttons it up again. “Kurt, I thought you understood I just wanted to be friends. I like you, but I’m not romantically interested in you.” The words slice through Kurt’s heart. He can’t stop the tears that pool in his eyes. Guilt washes over Blaine’s face. Kurt looks away and wipes furiously at his face. “I’m sorry, that was harsher than I meant it to be.” 

Anger surges through him. Kurt leaps to his feet. “Harsh? That’s an understatement.” Kurt wraps his arms around his own stomach. “I don’t understand Blaine. If you have no interest in me, why all of this?” Kurt sweeps out his arm. 

“All of what?” 

“This Blaine!” Kurt snarls. “Baby, It’s Cold Outside. The flirty dance moves.” 

Blaine’s voice is low and soft when he says, “It’s just practice Kurt.” 

_ Practice?  _ Kurt repeats the word silently. He stares at Blaine.  _“_ Practice?” He swallows the glass in his throat. “It doesn’t feel like practice.”

“Kurt…” Blaine holds out his hands, as if Kurt’s a scared filly. 

“I need to go.” Kurt storms to the table to grab his jacket. 

“Kurt wait,” Blaine pleas. Kurt doesn’t listen. He can hear Blaine’s footsteps behind him, so Kurt breaks into a run. The Victorian halls flash before him, but this time Kurt isn’t marveling at their beauty. His only thought is to get to his car and get out of there. 

Cold air blasts against Kurt’s skin as he steps outside. It’s started snowing. His jacket is still clutched in his arms. He makes a dash towards his SUV, fumbling for his car keys in his coat’s pocket. Kurt slams the door shut. When he looks up as he starts the car he can see Blaine in the doorway of the school building. 

Tears tumble down Kurt’s face, but this time he doesn’t bother to wipe them away. He jams on the radio, needing something to focus on. Mariah Carey’s _All I Want for Christmas Is You_ jingles energetically. Kurt slams him finger on the volume button. The music dies. 

He stops a red light and pulls out his phone. Scrolling through his contact list Kurt finds the name he wants. The ringing stops after the third ring. 

“Hey,” Dave says in greeting. His voice is low and tentative, as if he’s both surprised to hear from Kurt and afraid that Kurt’s going to hang up. 

“Hey,” Kurt says, sniffling. “Are your parents’ home? Can I come over?”   

There’s shuffling on the other end, as if Karofsky is walking. “My dad is here. But he’s going out to dinner with his co-workers tonight. He’ll be gone for a few hours.” 

“So if I’m there in like an hour?” Kurt doesn’t care that he sounds desperate. 

“Yeah. That could work.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” Kurt says, ready to end the call. 

Karofsky isn’t as ready. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Kurt snaps. Fresh tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “I just changed my mind about see you. I’m allowed to do that.” 

“Okay…” There’s a pause. 

Kurt cuts in before Dave can say anymore. “I’ll see you in an hour. I need to go. I’m driving. Bye.” 

He hangs up, not waiting for a response. He merges onto the highway, knuckles white around the steering wheel. The radio makes another appearance. Kurt flips through the stations until he finds one not playing Christmas music. Hard rock blasts loud enough to hurt Kurt’s ears. 

He doesn’t care. 

He ignores the crude lyrics and drives. 


	15. Chapter 15

Despite the rush hour traffic that adds an extra thirty minutes to Kurt’s drive back to Lima, when he texts Karofsky, he gets back,  _Dad’s still here. Should be leaving soon._

Kurt tightens his grip around the steering wheel, uncaring that his fingers feel stiff, and drives around Karofsky’s neighborhood in circles. He’s on loop eight when his phone finally beeps, okaying his arrival at the Karofsky residence.  By the time Kurt parks in the driveway, all of his hurt has hardened to anger. It weighs down his chest and makes it hard to think. 

He rings the doorbell then raps his knuckles on the door. Karofsky is there before Kurt’s next breath. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that. My dad…” Kurt steps inside, pulling the door shut behind him. He slams his mouth against Karofsky’s. The bigger boy releases a small, “Ompf.” He gets with the program quickly though, because in the next second he’s grabbing the back of Kurt’s head with one hand while the other flattens in the middle of Kurt’s back. 

His teeth clank against Karofsky’s. Karofsky huffs into his mouth, but Kurt doesn’t move away. Instead, he grabs the front of the boy’s shirt and holds him still. Kurt’s head starts to go fuzzy and his lungs begin to scream. 

Karofsky is the first one to pull away. His face is deep red and his pants are only slightly louder than Kurt’s. Their breathing fills the foyer, roaring in Kurt’s ears, overshadowing the pounding of his heart. Kurt feels incredible hot. 

He unbuttons his jacket then shrugs it off his shoulders. “Here,” he says, shoving it into Karofsky’s hands. Karofsky blinks at him. His throat quivers, but then he’s twisting around and putting Kurt’s coat in the closet. 

Kurt doesn’t waste any time. The second the closet door snicks shut, he’s pushing the larger boy backwards. His hands knead the nape of Karofsky’s neck. Fine hairs tickle Kurt’s fingers. He presses down harder and the feeling disappears. His mouth takes charge again, biting Karofsky’s jaw and throat. Karofsky’s tilts his head and moans. Kurt grinds himself onto Karofsky’s muscled leg. 

“Jesus.” Karofsky’s cry makes Kurt throb.   

The guttural cough of a dying car filters in from outside. Both boys jolt, and Kurt turns toward the front door. There’s nothing to see. The window in the door shows what little light is left from the setting sun. The sky is a dull black-gray, a combination of cloudy skies and the impending winter night. 

Kurt puts his hand back on Karofsky’s shoulder and leans forward again. Karofsky dips away and says, “Let’s go to my room.” His voice is throaty. The rasp of it sends a thrill down Kurt’s spine. 

_ I did that,  _ his mind whispers slyly. Kurt smiles, except he doesn’t feel happy or excited. The feeling in his chest, his stomach, his brain, is darker than happiness. It’s headier, and definitely unusual. They’re at the top of the stairs, Karofsky breathing down Kurt’s back, devouring Kurt’s backside with his eyes, before Kurt can put a name to the feeling.  _Power,_ he thinks as he twists open Karofsky’s bedroom door.  _This is what having power over someone feels like._ He knows he shouldn’t like it. That it’s wrong. But it feels  _amazing_.

Karofsky’s room is exactly as Kurt imagined it to be. It screams teen jock. There’s a pile of tennis shoes near the door. Kurt recognizes Karofsky’s backpack slumped next to the shoes.  Two posters are taped to the off-white wall. One boasts a Cleveland Browns logo and the other shows a wide shot of the Buckeye football team at the 2010 Rose Bowl. A black desk is pushed against the wall under the posters. A laptop, an Algebra II textbook, and a lamp sit on top. 

The queen sized bed is unmade. A navy blue comforter, utterly rumpled, is sprawled over a white sheet. A matching pillow is near the head of the bed. Another is on the floor.  Above Karofsky’s bed is a framed picture of some hockey player. 

Heat sticks to Kurt’s skin the second he steps inside. There’s a small space heater under the only window in the room. Blinds obscure whatever light is left from the setting sun. As Karofsky follows Kurt through the door, he reaches over Kurt’s shoulder and flips on light switch. 

“Sorry it’s so hot up here,” Karofsky says. “My room gets too cold without the heater.” He shuffles forward, socked toes bumping into the heels of Kurt’s boots. The bedroom door snicks shut. 

Kurt wrinkles his nose. “Why does it smell like Fritos in here?” It’s not really what he’s thinking, though the room does smell like corn chips. But sweat is already beading at his temple, and the earlier control he felt is dissipating in the other boy’s unfamiliar room. Without turning his body, Kurt twists his head and looks at Karofsky under lowered eyelashes. 

The question has obviously thrown him off; Karofsky’s eyes have gone wide and cheeks are drawn tight over his face. The look makes Kurt feel better. He wanders over to Karofsky’s bed and sits on the edge. Bending over, he begins to unlace his boots. 

“Uh, I ate them earlier,” Karofsky mumbles. His hands curl into loose balls at his sides, fingers pressing every so often at the palms of his fists. Kurt picks up his shoes and sets them on the floor near the corner of the bed. Karofsky’s eyes follow the action then flutter up to Kurt’s face. 

“Mmm,” Kurt hums, eyebrow arched. Karofsky’s gaze flickers to the double closet doors.  _I wonder if he’s thinking of hiding._ The thought of the other boy being embarrassed by the smell and wanting to hide in the closet makes Kurt want to throw his head back and laugh.  _Blaine would never hide in the closet. He’d never be embarrassed by the smell of chips._ The thoughts seep through Kurt’s brain like poison. Suddenly, acid is threating to dissolve his heart. Despite the heater, a chill takes him. 

In defense, Kurt tugs off his sweater, catches the surprise on Karofsky’s face, and then pulls off his undershirt as well. His bare chest prickles. Kurt shuffles backwards on the bed until his shoulders bump against the headboard. He unbuttons the top of his pants then rests his hands against the naked flesh of his stomach. “Will you be joining me anytime soon?” Kurt goes for light and seductive, but the words sound slightly sarcastic. 

Karofsky’ doesn’t seem to mind. All the embarrassment flushes into arousal. Kurt can see the tent in his jeans, and that makes Kurt flush too. Karofsky whips off his own shirt, tossing it in the direction of the closet. That wide, somewhat furred chest makes Kurt’s mouth water. “Hurry up,” Kurt hiss. Karofsky’s knees hit the bed. 

Like a lion watching its prey, Karofsky doesn’t take his eyes off Kurt’s face. He crawls forward, weight pressing down the mattress. Unexpectedly, he stops and a wicked grin spreads across his face. He braces one hand on the outside of Kurt’s left knee. Chest darting forward, Karofsky grabs the edge of Kurt’s jeans with the other hand and pulls his whole body downwards. Kurt’s back slides along the sheet, and suddenly, his body is under Karofsky’s. Then, Karofsky’s weight bears down on him, and  _Gaga_ , does Kurt’s body like that. He goes from half-hard to fully erect in zero to sixty flat. The zipper of his pants bites painfully through his underwear. Kurt squirms into Karofsky. Karofsky moans. 

“Shit.” Karofsky’s curse puffs moist air into Kurt’s face. Kurt responds by rocking upwards and burying his hand through Karofsky’s hair. He bites at Karofsky’s lips, not quite kissing, then scraps his teeth along Karofsky’s chin. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Karofsky pants. 

Kurt opens his eyes and says, “Seriously?” 

“It just that earlier today you didn’t even want to talk to me.” Karofsky thighs press against Kurt’s. His erection is hard and hot, even through layers of clothing. 

“Karofsky,” Kurt snaps and thrust upwards. “I’m half naked and hard. I’m pretty sure I want to do this.” Case closed, Kurt leans forward, mouth heading straight for Karofsky’s. Except, as Kurt’s lips brush against Karofsky’s, the other boy pulls away. 

He heaves himself off Kurt’s body and sits on the bed beside him. “What the hell?” Kurt says sharply. His dick throbs, aching more without the lovely pressure. 

Since his face is already flushed, it takes Kurt a second to decipher Karofsky’s reddening skin. When he realizes that it’s anger on Karofsky’s face, Kurt sits too. “Karofsky?” the larger boy says threateningly. 

Sweat pools into Kurt’s collarbone as he tries to determine what Karofsky means by saying his own name. When he can’t figure it out, he gets angry back. “What’s your problem?” 

Karofsky lurches off the bed. Jamming his hands into his pocket, he growls, “I don’t know what happened today, or what issues you have, but if you can’t even call me by name, we shouldn’t be doing this.” 

It clicks. Kurt stands too, needing an even playing field, and says, “You won’t make out with me because I called you Karofsky instead of Dave?” There’s a little voice in Kurt’s head that whispers that the other boy might be right, but he stamps it down with a vengeance. He rounds the bed and gets in Karofsky’s face. “What kind of man are you that you won’t even get off with someone willing and able? Because of a name? Are you such a loser?” It’s a low blow. Kurt knows it, but he doesn’t care. 

Fury rolls over Karofsky’s face like thunder. Kurt’s seen that face before. The last time Karofsky’s wore it he threatened to kill Kurt. Fear bubbles in Kurt’s chest. He stumbles backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. His eyes flicker to the door. Karofsky steps forward. His fists are stiff balls at his sides. His mouth tightens and all of Kurt’s air whooshes from his lungs in a fearful gasp. 

Karofsky’s whole body freezes. He stares at Kurt, and then horror replaces the anger. He fumbles backwards, shaking his head. When he’s a good two feet away, when Kurt can no longer feel his body heat or hear each breath, Karofsky shakily says, “I’m not going to hit you.” 

“I know,” Kurt says, but the lie is clear as day. 

“I think you need to leave,” Karofsky says after a moment. 

Kurt nods, and mechanically picks up his clothes. He doesn’t look at the other boy as he slips on his boots and laces them up. He can see the shadow of Karofsky’s form from the corner of his eye. The other boy doesn’t move from his spot near the closet doors. 

Karofsky doesn’t escort him downstairs. Neither say goodbye. Kurt gets his own jacket and shuts the front door on his way out. It’s begun to snow again. Thick, wide flakes fall from the sky. A sheet of white already covers his SUV. It’s only as his car key misses the door lock does Kurt realize he’s trembling. It takes him three tries to unlock the door. He has to wait in the driveway while his defroster goes to work. 

When he can see out the windshield Kurt looks up at Karofsky’s room. He can’t see inside, because the blinds are still shut, but the light from the bedroom is still visible. The bright glow around the window pane is a stark contrast in the already pitch black evening. Kurt rests his forehead on the steering wheel, trying to calm the urge to vomit. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits in Karofsky’s driveway, at least ten minutes he thinks, before he recognizes that the sick feeling isn’t going away. He feels like he has a fever, and his skin keeps shifting from hot to cold. Still, he can’t sit here forever, so Kurt turns on his light and pulls out of Karofsky’s driveway. He has to stop at the gas station right outside of Karofsky’s neighborhood and pulls into a parking space. Kurt watches sixteen cars come and go before he feels able to finish the drive home. 

Luckily, no one is home when Kurt gets there. Carole is at work, and knowing that Kurt had told his family that he wouldn’t be home for dinner, he figures his dad and Finn are out to eat. He stumbles upstairs and crawls into bed, shoes on and all. Huddled under the covers, Kurt wraps his arms around his pillow and cries. 

 


	16. Chapter 16

The last day before winter break is torture. Excitement electrifies the air. Finn talks to Kurt a million miles per second. Mercedes and Tina have smiles on their faces and a laughs in their throats every time Kurt focuses on them. Red and green color the school; Kurt can’t even appreciate the holiday cheer. When Brittany gives him a bag of M & M’s wrapped in gold tissue paper, Kurt has to excuse himself to the bathroom and hold back tears. He throws the candy in the trashcan. 

He avoids Karofsky like the plague. Except for one terrifying moment at the beginning of the day when the jock turns the corner with Azimio, Kurt manages to keep to himself. He thinks that Karofsky is avoiding him too. They normally cross paths sometime during lunch, but Karofsky is absent from the cafeteria. 

Mr. Schuester leads the glee club around the school for the latter half of the day as they sing carols. Santana can’t stop commenting on how awesome it is too miss class. Rachel makes some remark about only doing crossword puzzles and watching movies anyway. Kurt manages to wedge his body towards the back of the club. He lip sings most of the songs. No one seems to notice. 

After the final bell, Kurt heads straight towards the parking lot. Finn catches him when he’s almost at the doors. “Hey Kurt,” he calls. Kurt twists and sees his stepbrother weaving through the hordes of students stampeding outside. Kurt steps aside and waits for Finn to reach him. “Hey,” Finn says again when he stops next to Kurt. 

Kurt raises an eyebrow and crosses his arm. “Where’s your backpack?” he asks. Kurt needs to leave, now. _Before I bump into Karofsky._ The safety of his home has never seemed more appealing. 

Finn smiles and says, “Puck got the new Call of Duty. I’m going to go over and play. Can you let Mom and Burt know?” 

“Can’t you just call them?” Kurt replies, voice tight. It’s not that he cares if Finn goes over Puck’s house, or telling their parents, it just that, Finn is  _distracting_. Kurt needs distracting. 

“I forgot to charge my phone.” He slides it from his pocket and shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry.” 

Kurt sighs. “Fine.” 

Finn nods but doesn’t smile. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. “Are you okay? You’re acting weird today.” 

A guy passes buy and bumps into Kurt. Kurt frowns and twists so his back is pressed against the wall. “I’m fine.” 

Finn nods, like he agrees, but his mouth is still concerned. “Cause I noticed you weren’t singing some of the songs when we were caroling today.” 

_ Guess someone noticed after all.  _ Strangely, Kurt isn’t relieved. At one point in his life he would have done anything to have Finn pay attention to him. “Oh, that,” Kurt says with a smile. “My throat just hurt, that’s all.” He touches his neck. “It still does a bit. I didn’t want to miss everyone else singing though, so Mr. Schue said just to come along and lip sing.”

Relief spreads across Finn’s face. “Oh, okay,” he says, bobbing his head. 

_ Tell the boy that Mr. Schue gave the okay, and it’s golden,  _ Kurt thinks. Finn is still staring at him, but his expression has gone to slightly bored. “I’ll see you later,” Kurt says, releasing his stepbrother from the conversation.  “And I’ll relay your message.” A blank stare. “I’ll tell Carole and Dad.”

“Thanks!” Finn slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “Adios me hombre!” 

Kurt rolls his eyes and watches Finn disappear down the hallway. There’s a line of cars where the school parking lot meets the main road. Kurt sighs as he gets into his SUV, preparing himself for a nice little wait. As he gets behind a red Accord, Kurt can’t help but notice that Karofsky’s blue truck is already gone. 

_ He never leaves before me,  _ Kurt thinks then scowls at himself. “Why do I know that?” he asks aloud. His heater puffs warm air into his face. Two cars pull onto the street and Kurt moves forward in line.  _We were supposed to meet at the college after school today._ It’s not the first time the thought popped up in Kurt’s mind. “You are  _not_  going to go see him,” Kurt tells himself. He turns on the radio.

The regular officer has shown up and has begun directing traffic out of the school. Six more students get to leave before Mr. Orange Vest stops the line and lets the oncoming traffic pass.  _What if he shows up and wants to talk to you?_ Kurt imagines how the conversation would go. None of the scenarios he comes up with end well. Even the one where they don’t talk and just rub off on each other. “Karofsky is trouble. Even if he showed any interest in talking you today- which he didn’t- you don’t need to be in any type of relationship with him.” Voicing his thoughts aloud usually helps Kurt reinforce his decisions. Yet, when it’s his turn to pull of the lot, he turns left towards the college, instead of right to his house. 

It takes him a half an hour to arrive with the traffic. When he pulls into the lot there are more cars than last time. The whole front is occupied.  _So much for Karofsky saying that everyone would already be gone._ There are several groups standing around talking. It’s not snowing, but it’s damn cold with a hurricane on the way or something. Kurt doesn’t know how they stay outside for more than a minute or two. 

He drives slowly up the main isle, looking for Karofsky’s truck. Down the second row he spots a flash a blue, but when he gets near the truck he sees the “Baby on Board” sticker in the window. It becomes clear that Karofsky isn’t here after a second round through the lot. A white mini-van leaves an empty spot in the first row, Kurt takes her place. 

_ I’ll wait five minutes.  _ It’s already three forty-five. Kurt pulls his phone from his bag. There’s a text from Mercedes asking him if he wants to go to the mall tomorrow. He doesn’t reply. He brings up Facebook and scrolls through peoples’ updates. More cars leave the college. He rolls his eyes at Tina’s update that says, _Lip-locked._ Not that he blames her. Mike Chang has diamond cut abs. Kurt has had fantasies that revolve around those abs and his tongue.

“It’s time for your four o’clock sleaze!” Jimmy Jam says on the radio. Kurt looks out his windows. All of the groups have dispersed, and while there are still cars in the lot, all the people are gone. Kurt can see a few bodies walking around inside the main building. 

_ Five more minutes,  _ he promises himself. He plugs in his iPod and switches off the radio.  Three songs into his ‘Dance-Dance Playlist’ Kurt pulls out of his spot and drives around the parking lot again. The forty or so cars have dwindled to about fifteen. There’s not a single blue one in the bunch.

_ I didn’t want to talk to him anyway,  _ Kurt thinks.  _Not showing up is the smartest thing Karofsky’s done in well, ever._ Kurt doesn’t dwell on what that makes his decision.

“It’s fine,” he tells his steering wheel as he waits at a red light. 

“It’s actually a relief,” he says as he parks at the curb in front of his house. 

Kurt puts his things away and takes out his ‘Healthy Heart Cookbook.’  _Blackened chicken with a corn-salsa salad side dish._ He opens the refrigerator. “No more Karofsky. It’s what I’ve wanted for years.” He forces himself to smile. It feels stiff. His throat is hurting for real. 

_ Maybe I am getting sick.  _ He washes his hands. The smell of tangerine soap tickles his nose. His chest feels tight and achy. “I’m not upset.”

“Kurt?” Burt calls out from the garage door. 

“In the kitchen Dad.” He takes a lung-full of air.  _This is great. I’m not upset._

“Hey,” his dad greets with a loving squeeze to Kurt’s shoulder. “That smells great. Do we get to eat real food tonight?” 

“All of my food is real food,” Kurt replies. He turns his back to his dad and faces the corn heating on the stove. Suddenly, it’s hard to hold his smile. 

Burt laughs. “If you say so.” 

“I do.” Kurt drags the wooden spoon through the corn. “Go get changed and relax for a bit. It will be about twenty minutes until the chicken is done.” 

“Carole is on her way home.” 

“Finn is going to be late. He’s playing Call of Duty with Puck.” 

Burt sighs. “It’s Friday night dinner.” 

Kurt twists his head and lifts an eyebrow. “It’s the beginning of winter break.” 

“Then why are you here?” Burt turns on the faucet and sticks his hands under the spray. He picks up the bar of soap Kurt special orders. It’s made to get rid of grease. 

“Because I love spending time with my family.” Kurt leans forward and presses a kiss to his father’s cheek. When Kurt bends away, his dad surprises him by hauling him into a bear hug. 

“I love you kiddo.” 

Kurt soaks up his dad’s warmth.  _At least someone does._ “I love you too Dad.” 

“Are you okay?” Burt asks when Kurt clings on longer than usual. 

Kurt gives him the same answer he gave Finn. “I’m fine.” Burt frowns. “I’m just tired that’s all. It’s been a rough semester. I’m glad it’s break time.” 

Concern flashes in his dad’s eyes. “If you need to talk about anything, you know I’m here, right?” 

Sadness bubbles in Kurt’s chest. “I know Dad.” He leans in for another hug then pushes his dad towards the stairs. “Now go get ready for dinner. You want to look your best when Carole gets home.” 

Burt chuckles. “A benefit of being married is that your partner will like you no matter if you are cleaned up or not.” 

“That may be true, but Carole will appreciate it if you don’t smell like car parts and oil.” 

“Yes, sir!” Burt salutes him and heads upstairs. 

Kurt takes out the cutting board and begins dicing the tomatoes. He feels emptier than ever. 

*** 

Christmas morning, Finn bursts into Kurt’s room and drags him downstairs. Carole hands Kurt a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun. Burt looks as sleepy at Kurt feels, sitting on the couch, sipping his own caffeinated beverage. Since it’s Christmas, Kurt doesn’t say anything about drink. 

Kurt laughs as Finn excitedly disperses all the presents under the tree. Every rip of wrapping paper has his stepbrother jiggling in excitement.  When he gets to Kurt’s present- a carefully picked collection of cds, sheet music for his drums, and soft pale blue sweater (Kurt couldn’t resist)- he tackles Kurt in a hard hug. “Okay, I get it. You like it.” Kurt smiles, feeling more joyful than he has in a long while. Finn’s gift to Kurt (a gift card to iTunes) isn’t as well thought out, but Kurt appreciates the sentiment nevertheless. 

Kurt helps Carole make a huge lunch that includes a honey baked ham, mashed potatoes, green casserole, and homemade rolls.  Finn eats a whole pan of the rolls by himself. He doesn’t even loose his enthusiasm when he gets a voicemail from Rachel saying, “Merry Christmas,” and “I love you.” 

His eyes droop for a moment before he texts her back saying, “Thanks. You too.” 

Kurt tells his stepbrother, “You know, if I had someone who loved me that much, I’d never let them go.”  Finn says nothing. 

They play Finn’s new ‘Call of Duty.’ Later, Kurt tries out his new line of skincare products. Burt knows his boys well. 

*** 

“What about this?” Mercedes asks, holding up a brightly colored purple and black t-shirt. 

“It definitely has potential for being fabulous, but I’m not sure it’s right for a New Year’s party,” Kurt replies. 

They shop all day. Kurt blows every dollar sent from his relatives. He helps Mercedes pick out two outfits for the New Year’s dinner bash at Breadsticks. They drink lattes from Starbucks to keep up their energy. During one intense moment of the day, Kurt has to battle a skinny black-haired girl for the last pair of size eleven metallic red patent leather Dr. Martens boots. As soon as he pays for them, he sits down and slips them on. And if he happens to walk by that want-to-be rocker girl? Twice? Well, Kurt never claimed to be noble. 

*** 

The day before school begins again, Finn rushes into the living room and blocks the TV. “Guess what?” he asks. His cell is squeezed between his fingers, and he’s got a huge grin across his face.    

“What?” Carole asks. 

“Lincoln High’s football team just got disqualified from the championship for cheating. Six of their members were doing steroids.” 

Kurt bobs his head to the left, trying to catch Anthony Bourdain’s critique of the delicious looking fish and chips plate. “So?” Kurt says.  

“So,” Finn says, practically bouncing in place. “That means the McKinley High team gets to compete for the championship title!” 

Burt jumps to his feet. “That’s great!” he slaps Finn on the shoulder. Finn’s mouth shoots out terms and phrases that Kurt really can’t follow, despite being on the team for a short while last year. 

*** 

It’s forty-five degrees outside the day school returns. The sun shines bright and merrily. Kurt shifts the strap of his bag, and sticks his side next to Tina’s. He’s feeling better than he was, but he still keeps an eye out for Karofsky. It’s only as the other boy passes him in the hallway between first and second period without saying or doing anything, does Kurt realize that Karofsky is going to ignore him. 

The realization floods him with relief.   

During glee practice, Mr. Schue babbles something about picking songs for Regionals, and that sets off a round of vocal debates from all present. Santana, Quinn, and Brittany have to leave early for cheerleading practice. All the three of them look like their heading towards their executions.  Nothing is decided when the boys have to leave for football practice. 

That night, Finn comes home raging. “The guys on the team just don’t understand how awesome glee is.” 

“Preach it,” Kurt says. Finn pauses and stares at him, confused. 

Then, something awful happens. Kurt catches Finn talking heatedly to Mr. Schuester, and when Kurt enters the music room later, all of the football players are seated inside.  _Oh my god,_ Kurt thinks when Mr. Schue tells everyone that the glee students and football players are going to put on a half-time show that the championship game. 

Chaos ensures. Kurt’s stomach eats itself as he stares at his teacher in horror. His eyes flicker to Karofsky. He looks the way Kurt feels. Their eyes meet for a brief second before anger boils in the football player’s face. “This is stupid. I’m not going to sing with these losers,” Karofsky shouts. 

Things get loud again, then suddenly, Rachel and Puck are singing Lady Antebellum’s  _Need You Now._ Finn looks like he’s been punched in the gut.   

“You don’t have a choice,” Coach Beiste tells her players. “If you want to play in the game, you are going to participate in the half-time show.” 

Most of the football players leave pissed off, Karofsky leading the way. Kurt’s not feeling too happy either. “Mr. Schue,” he tells his teacher once they’re alone, “I don’t feel comfortable with this.” 

“Kurt,” Mr. Schuester says with a sigh. “I know that these guys haven’t been kind to you.” 

“That’s an understatement,” Kurt throws in. 

“But,” Mr. Schue continues, “they aren’t going to get better if they don’t understand. You need to show them how awesome you are.” 

Kurt doesn’t feel convinced, but talking to Mr. Schue is like talking to a stuffed animal. It’s cute and stares at him like it’s listening, but its brain is made of cotton fluff.  “Okay,” he agrees. 

It’s only later, when Mr. Schue says that they are going to do a mash-up of ‘Thriller’ and ‘Heads Will Roll,’ does excitement trickle inside Kurt’s chest.  _Maybe this will teach the football players a lesson._ He’s not really convinced, but he gets to sing, put on make-up, and dance like zombie. So, excitement. 

They’re practicing their zombie walks in the auditorium, with Kurt placing as many gleesters between him and the football players as possible, when he happens to glance over at Karofsky. The boy’s face is tight, as if he’s concentrating, but all signs of anger are gone.  _Focus on yourself,_ Kurt commands. 

Mr. Schue calls Karofsky over after the practice. Kurt can’t hear what they say to each other, but a look of wonder spreads across Karofsky’s face. He stares happily at the teacher. Kurt remembers how Karofsky was after the shower. Loose, cheery, and relaxed. Kurt pushes the memory away. 

Kurt heads backstage where zombie make-up 101 is being held. He settles before a mirror and opens all of the make-up cases. He picks up a sponge and complete ignores Karofsky when he walks in.   

_ I don’t care what he and Finn are talking about.  _ Kurt unzips the bag of brushes and searches for one small enough to dab red shadow under his eyes. Chatter fills the air. It’s weird preparing for something glee related with so many voices around.

Fingers touch his back. Startled, Kurt drops the bag of brushes. He sees the other boy’s reflection in the mirror. “What do  _you_  want?” Kurt snaps.  

Karofsky’s shoulders sag. “Help me do my make-up?” 

“Seriously?” Kurt’s mouth drops open. 

Karofsky nods. Kurt looks around, but no one is gawking at either he or Karofsky.  Most of the other glee students are busy helping the football players with their zombie faces. Kurt looks at his stepbrother. Finn has noticed them, and he gives Kurt a nod. Then as if Kurt doesn’t get it, Finn mouths, “help him.” 

Sighing, Kurt turns back to Karofsky and says, “Sit down.” Karofsky drags over a nearby chair. He sits still as Kurt holds up a compact of white powder. “This is your base. It will make you look pale and sickly, or dead in our case.” Karofsky nods. Kurt rubs the round applicator in the make-up then slides the pad over Karofsky’s cheek. 

The angle is wrong. Without thinking, Kurt lifts his other hand and grabs Karofsky’s chin. The body beside Kurt freezes. Kurt drops his hands, “Sorry.” 

Karofsky’s fingers dart out and grab his wrist. “No. It’s fine.” Kurt looks into the athlete’s eyes and sees nothing but sincerity. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Kurt raises his hands again. Karofsky’s skin is warm. As Kurt leans forward to put on the powder, he smells Karofsky’s sweat. He wants to close his eyes and bury is nose in Karofsky’s neck. Instead he put the make-up on as fast as possible. 

“There, all done.” 

“Damn, I look creepy,” Karofsky says after looking in the mirror. 

“You sure do.” Kurt can’t help the way his voice has dropped an octave. Karofsky’s gaze flicks to Kurt’s mouth. Then, abruptly, he stands. 

“I’m going to show Azimio.” 

Kurt watches him walk away. 

He doesn’t know what to think. 

*** 

They practice with the song ‘She’s Not There.’ Kurt can’t believe how well it goes. Everyone is laughing, and every time Kurt catches a look at one of his classmates’ faces, he shudders in disgust. The zombie make-up is grotesque and very well done. 

“We are going to rock the half-time show,” he says to Artie when practice is over. He sees Karofsky cuff Azimio on the back and laugh. 

“It’s going to be awesome,” Artie hoots. Brittany spent a little extra time on her boyfriend’s face. Artie’s mouth looks so disturbing that Kurt can’t look at it without a little spike of adrenaline shooting through his spine. 

Energy and spirits are high. Together, they walk through the school, showing off their unity. The make-up stays on. 

Then Scott Cooper shows up with his band of puckheads. 

“What the hell!” Karofsky shouts as slushies rain down, dripping red ice. There’s a lot of cursing as they head toward the boys’ restroom. Finn hands Karofsky a towel. The boy drags it across his face. Finn tries to tell Karofsky that stuff like this happens. He has to just brush it off. Karofsky blows up. 

“I am not like you losers. This,” he grabs is red-stained collar, “is  _never_  going to happen again.” Karofsky storms out, all eyes on his back. 

Finn starts to go after him; Kurt snags his stepbrother’s arm. “No. You’re not going to help.” 

Later, during last period, Kurt is heading towards the restroom, pass tucked carefully in his pocket, when he sees Karofsky go into the boy’s locker room.  Making sure there are no witnesses, Kurt hurries in behind him. 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Karofsky says as he glances at Kurt over his shoulder. He’s got his hands in his locker. 

“A boy not wanting to talk to me? When have I ever let that stop me?” Kurt jokes. He pokes his head around the row of lockers to see if anyone else is there. Empty. 

Karofsky doesn’t reply. He yanks out a worn pair of tennis shoes and slams them down on the bench. 

Look,” Kurt says, “Despite the fact that Finn isn’t best at being comforting, he’s right.” Kurt moves closer. “Karofsky… Dave, you are really good. Who knew that you could sing and dance?” Kurt touches the bigger boy’s arm. 

Karofsky sighs and pulls his arm from Kurt’s grip. His eyes are sad when he raises his head and looks at Kurt. “It doesn’t matter how good I am, or even if I like it, I can’t do anything that ruins my reputation.” 

Irritation rubs Kurt’s skin. “Why? Why is your reputation so important to you?” 

“Be popular, being liked, makes high school bearable. I know people like me. They want to be me.” He picks up his shoes and slides them down to the other side of the bench. 

_ Getting as far away from me as possible,  _ Kurt thinks.  It hurts, so Kurt bites. “But that jock, that  _cool kid_  you present, isn’t you. Those people don’t want to be you. They want to be the guy you pretend to be.” Karofsky’s mouth goes straight. Stiffly, he turns his attention to trading out his shoes.

Kurt doesn’t like being ignored. He stomps forward and grabs Karofsky’s shoulder. “This is where you first kissed me.”  

“Shut up.” His head whips around, searching for onlookers. 

Irritation morphs to anger. Kurt drops his body and smashes his mouth against Karofsky’s. It may have been a few weeks, but the kiss is as heated as Kurt remembers the others being. He’s kissed back for a moment, but then Dave rips his mouth away. 

“Get out.” 

Unlike the last time Karofsky growled that at him, Kurt doesn’t want to flee. “You shouldn’t give up so easily on yourself.” 

“Yeah? Well at least I don’t use other people to forget about my problems.”     

Kurt’s back snaps straight. “What does that mean?” 

“I’m not stupid.” Karofsky yanks his shoelace and stands too. “I may not know what shit is going on in your life, but I do know you were using me as some sick way to make yourself feel better.” 

_ It’s true.  _ Kurt’s stomach drops. He knew he was using the other boy. He didn’t realize Karofsky knew.  The truth steals his anger. Kurt closes his eyes, swallows to get some salvia in his mouth, then faces Karofsky. “I’m sorry. Despite the fact you used your attraction towards me as a reason to bully me, I had no right to treat you the way I did.” Karofsky’s jaw clenches. Kurt acknowledges that it isn’t the best apology he’s ever given.  “I’m sorry. Really,” he says again.

Karofsky nods.  

The locker room door opens. Arties wheels inside then stops when he sees them both. “What’s going on?” he asks tentatively. 

“Nothing,” Karofsky says. 

“I was telling Karofsky here that he shouldn’t give up on glee club,” Kurt adds. “Trying to convince him to come back.” 

Artie looks from Kurt to Dave. “Did it work?” Artie enquires. 

“I don’t know,” Kurt says. 

Karofsky shoulders tense and he shakes his head. “Glee club isn’t for me.” 

Kurt leaves. 

*** 

There’s more practice. Coach Beiste holds to her ultimatum. Every football player but Dave Karofsky comes to half-time practice. Friday rolls around, and suddenly, they’re facing another problem. Coach Sylvester tells the Cheerios that if they want to be on the cheer squad, they aren’t allowed to be in the half-time show. There’s drama when Quinn, Santana and Brittany choose cheerleading over glee. 

However, as Kurt is finishing up his zombie make-up later that night, Finn comes rushing into the locker room, happy for the first time that day. “Our losing streak is over!” he tells his fellow football players. “We’ve got our favorite cheerleaders back.” Quinn, Santana and Brittany walk inside. 

“Well, let’s get zombiefied,” Santana snarks. 

“What happened?” Kurt hears Artie ask. 

Brittany responds. “We quit the Cheerios.” She doesn’t sound upset. 

As they head out onto the football field Kurt waves to his parents in the stands. He sees Karofsky hovering at the edge of the field. They get into place and the music flares to life. Kurt goes to that place where nothing matters but the performance, and the world fades away. So he’s surprised when he feels someone tap his shoulder. Karofsky’s face snaps into focus. He’s not wearing his zombie make-up, but his grease streaked jersey is on. There’s a smile on his face. 

“This is awesome,” he whispers into Kurt ear, as not to catch the microphone. Kurt can’t help but smile back. 

The people in the stands go crazy. Everyone sings along, screaming the Michael Jackson parts. When the music dies, the boys head back into the game, zombie faces still monstrous and terrifying. Karofsky plays next to his teammates. McKinley High wins the championship. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

** Part 17 **

Kurt picks up a roll of red streamers and holds it up for Finn to see. “I can’t believe you’re making a kissing booth.” Finn takes the roll and puts it in his shopping basket. He adds a package of pink and red heart stickers. “I can’t believe Figgins is letting you put up a booth.” He takes the markers out of Finn’s hand and puts them back on the shelf. “I’ve got some at home.”

“I just told him I was going to raise money for Glee club. He had no problem with it,” Finn says. He nods, like he’s going over something in his head, then turns towards the cash registers.  “But I’m not sure he was paying attention. He was listening to Ke$ha at the time.”

Kurt snorts. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Because Figgins is weird?” Finn says. He gives Kurt the basket and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

“It was a rhetorical question.” Kurt rolls his eyes and looks through his stepbrother’s supplies, making sure they don’t need anything else to decorate the booth. _Construction paper, red glitter, streamers, stickers, and glue. Check._ Kurt hands everything back over so Finn can pay.

“Is that when all the words start with the same letter?” Finn asks and smiles at the cashier. It’s an older woman with a bad blonde dye job.

“No, that’s alliteration. A rhetorical question means I don’t really need an answer.” The sliding glass doors open as more customers step inside Jo-Ann Fabrics. Kurt shivers and buttons up his coat.

“Oh.” Finn zips up his own coat as they head out into the ice-slush combination that has taken over Lima’s roads. Kurt’s SUV beeps as he hits the unlock button. They hop inside, but have to wait until the defroster works its magic on the windshield. “I hate winter,” Finn whines.

“You wouldn’t hate it so much if you dressed properly.” Kurt reaches into the backseat and grabs a black cashmere scarf. “Here.” Finn looks at it if it’s a snake, but he takes it and wraps it around his neck anyway. “Scarfs are our friends,” Kurt explains. “They can completely make or break an outfit.”

“Uh, yeah.” Finn looks at the scarf around his neck then back at Kurt. “Dude, you know what?” He doesn’t wait for Kurt to respond. “I was in the locker room yesterday after basketball practice, and I overheard Azimio and Rothman talking trash about glee!”

The ice finally disappears from the windshield and Kurt pulls out of the parking lot. “Does that really surprise you?”

“I thought we taught all those football guys how cool glee was!”

Kurt shakes his head. “Finn, one half-time show doesn’t mean that we’re suddenly the club to join. You did notice that not a single football player came back after game?”

Finn deflates into the seat. “It sucks. I really thought they’d give us a break.”

“Hmm,” Kurt hums. “It’s the nature of the beast.”

Finn nods, though Kurt’s not sure he got the reference, and then his stepbrother says, “At least Karofsky stopped bullying you.” 

Kurt’s heart skips a beat. “Uh, yeah. That’s great.”

“And nobody in glee has been slushied in a month!” Finn says enthusiastically.

“The slushie machine at Seven-Eleven broke, and they cost a dollar more at BP,” Kurt replies.

Finn pretends not to hear. “I really think I got through to Karofsky. Maybe I should invite him over for dinner or something.”

Kurt imagines how _that_ would go.  Awkward conversation, Dad shooting Karofsky death looks, and Kurt blushing from flashing images of Karofsky’s naked body. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kurt says, voice tight.

Finn looks at him at of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Kurt can tell his stepbrother is still dwelling on Karofsky, so he changes the subject. “So tell me, who do you want to come kiss you?"

***

Later that night, kissing booth built and resting in the garage, Kurt lies in bed and pulls out his phone.

 _Finn wanted to invite you over to dinner so he could expound on the laurels of glee club,_ he texts.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply. _Sounds like torture._

Kurt snickers. _I’ll have you know that dinner at the Hummel-Hudson household is delicious and fun-filled._ Kurt rolls over on his stomach, resting his elbows on the mattress.

 _After ur dad nearly killed me, I think I’ll be okay never seeing him again._ Kurt glances at the clock then seeing that it’s past ten, he mutes the volume of his phone.

 _Well, you deserved it._

There’s a longer pause before the response. _Yeah, I did. Ur dad loves you a lot._ Kurt can’t help smiling.  He’s thinking of what to say back when another text pops up. _R u mad that I didn’t join glee?_

Kurt sighs and looks at his closed door. The muffled sound of Finn’s television murmurs through the wall. _I’ll just talk quietly._ He highlights Donkey Kong’s text message and hits the green dial button. As soon as Karofsky picks up he says, “I told you that I understand why you can’t do it.”

“I know,” Dave mumbles.

Kurt  wiggles to the nightstand. “Now, in the perfect world would you be in glee? With your talent? Yes. BUT,” Kurt expounds, “in a perfect world gay men can come out with being scared of the consequences.” He jiggles open his drawer and pulls out a bottle of mint scented moisturizer.

“Is that a backhanded way of telling me I should come out?” Dave’s voice drops from playful to bothered.

Kurt shrugs off his robe. His flannel pajama bottoms stick to his skin, still slightly damp from the shower. Kurt rolls them up to the knee then squeezes lotion into his palm. He sighs into the phone. “I feel like half of our conversations go around in circles.” 

Finn wouldn’t understand what Kurt means, but Karofsky isn’t Finn. Kurt hears shuffling through the line, and then Dave says, “I’m not going to join glee, and I’m not coming out anytime soon.”

“I know,” Kurt replies. He rubs the cream into his legs, starting at his knees and going all the way to his toes. “And I accept that.” _At least for the moment._

“So, Finn is going through with the kissing booth?”

Kurt snorts. “Yep. A dollar per kiss. He even bought a pack of Softlips chap stick.” Laughter pours through the line.

“He’s sure going through a lot of work to kiss Quinn Fabray.”

“I know. He thinks he’s so double-oh-seven, but he’s pretty obvious,” Kurt says.

Dave’s chuckle is immediate. “I’m really surprised Finn hasn’t gotten lost and wandered in circles for days.”

“Hey!” Kurt chastises. Despite the fact he might have thought the same thing himself once or twice, Finn’s family. “Leave my step-brother alone. He might not be winning any Nobel prizes but he’s sweet.”

There’s a long pause. If he couldn’t hear breathing on the other end of the line, Kurt would have thought that Dave hung up. “Do you think I’m sweet?”

Kurt’s heart drops into his stomach. _Lie,_ his brain tells him. Even since the football championship he and Karofsky have had a truce. They’ve even be building a tentative friendship. The rules of which are they don’t talk, act, or mention anything dealing with sex or their past transgressions.

It hasn’t been easy. Neither Dave nor Kurt are what Kurt describes as the most level-headed of people. Kurt knows he’s emotional, a drama-queen some might say. And Karofsky? Well, Kurt’s surprised that the boy can hide his feelings as well as he does. That’s taking in the angry, bullying outbursts. Kurt knows that these talks, that having someone Karofsky can be himself around, is helping the boy. Kurt can tell that the anger isn’t as strong as before.He doesn’t want to do anything to change that. Still, he can’t form the lie.

Apparently he takes too long to answer. “I guess that’s my answer,” Dave says, voice dark.

“Dave,” Kurt says with a sigh. “Don’t be like that. I’m sorry, sweet isn’t an adjective I would use to describe you. Passionate, smart, athletic? Those all describe you. You don’t have to be sweet. It’s not for everybody.”

“I think I have to go to bed.”

 _Ah, there’s that anger,_ Kurt thinks.  “Really, you’re going to get pissed?” He’s starting to feel his own temper rise.

“Doesn’t that just mean I’m passionate?” Dave snaps.

“Oh my god,” Kurt huffs. 

“Sorry to bother you’re wonderfulness. I’ll just leave you alone.”

Suddenly, there’s a dial tone in Kurt’s ear. _Did he just hang up on me? What an asshole!_ Kurt slams his lotion back into the drawer and shoves the drawer closed. _Screw him!_

There’s a knock on his door and then his dad is poking his head in. “Saw you’re light on. You still up?” His eyes sweep over Kurt and then Burt adds, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine Dad,” Kurt says. He realizes he’s clenching his phone. He sets it down on the nightstand.

Burt steps inside the bedroom. “Really? Because you look upset.”

Kurt recognizes the signs, and if he doesn’t stop this now he and Dad are about to have a heart to heart. Kurt focuses on the bedspread. “I’m just bemoaning the fact that Valentine’s Day is this Saturday and I have no one to love.” It’s not a lie; it’s just not what’s at the top of his mind.

Worry lines wrinkle between Burt’s eyes and he comes to the edge of Kurt’s bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight. Kurt slides over, making room for his dad. He may not have wanted company two seconds ago, but when Dad’s big hand pulls him into his shoulder, Kurt welcomes the comfort. “You may not have a boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have anyone to love. Or that no one loves you.”

 _How does he always know what to say?_ Kurt thinks. He can’t help the tears that prick at the corner of his eyes. Anger and loneliness swirl in his chest. “You’re a good dad,” Kurt says, wrapping both arms around his father’s chest.    

Kurt feels his Dad’s smile pressed against his hair. “You’re a good son.”

“Thanks.”

Burt pulls back and looks at his son. “And don’t be in any rush to find a boyfriend. You’re still a kid.”

“I’m not a kid dad,” Kurt replies with a sideways smile. _And if you knew what I’ve done with another boy you’d probably flip your lid._ The secret forms a lump in his chest.

“We’ll agree to disagree on that.” He presses a kiss to Kurt’s forehead. “Go to sleep. The day will be brighter tomorrow.” Burt squeezes Kurt’s shoulder then slides off the bed. He pauses at the door, turns, then says, “Love you kiddo.”

Kurt smiles. “Love you too dad.”

***

Except for Finn-Rachel-Quinn drama, the next few days of school are pretty typical for Kurt. He aces his French test and spends his study halls surfing Macy’s.com for any new appearances of the spring collection.  He and Karofsky avoid each other, which is normal, but when he’s getting ready for bed each night, Kurt can’t help but reaching out to text the other boy.

 _It’s strange how fast things can become habit._ They had only been talking for about a month, but their daily conversations have become the norm. Still, Kurt refuses to admit that he misses chatting with jock.

By the time Thursday rolls around, Kurt’s pissed that Karofsky is being so stubborn. Kurt determines that _he’s_ not going to be the first one to give in. _That doesn’t mean I can’t play dirty,_ Kurt think as he walks McKinley’s halls. When Mr. Hammond asks for a volunteer to go to pick up a pack of dry erase markers from Mrs. Carter down the hall, Kurt jumps at the chance.

He knocks and waits for the teacher’s, “come in,” before opening the door.  Every head turns his way as he asks for the markers, including one Dave Karofsky. He’s sitting three rows down, the second seat back. Kurt pretends to take in the room. He lets his eyes brush by Dave more than once. A smug smile plays across Kurt’s lips.

Karofsky frowns.

“Thanks Mrs. Carter,” Kurt chirps as he takes the markers. He lets the package slip from his fingers. “Oops,” he says with a little laugh, and bends down to grab them. If he left his coat in Mr. Hammond’s room and wore extra tight jeans? Well, he’s not forcing Dave to look.

And if on Friday he comes to school in his beautiful red Doc Martens and a matching form-fitting t-shirt, and a pair of black leggings? It’s not the first time he dressed for attention. He gets more than one stare from the McKinley High jock brigade; most of them are eye-rolling glances. When he catches sight of Dave’s pink cheeks during the wall to lunch, Kurt can’t help but throw back his shoulders and swing his hips.

He’s pulling into his driveway after school when he gets a text message. It’s from Donkey Kong. _I win,_ he thinks. Kurt lets the car run and checks his message.

 _Call me?_ It says.

Kurt calls him.

“Hey,” Dave answers after the first ring.

“Hey,” Kurt replies, feeling a sense of deja-vu.

“So maybe I overreacted a little,” Dave says, sounding embarrassed.

“Just a little.” Kurt doesn’t mean to sound so snotty; it just comes out like that.

Dave sighs and says, “Can you come over my house tomorrow?”

Kurt hasn’t been over Karofsky’s house since that horrible incident with Blaine, and before that when he used Dave to make himself feel better. It doesn’t hold the greatest memories for him. “I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Kurt says.

“Please, just for a little bit? Around one? I want to show you something.”

It’s really not a good idea, but Kurt’s curiosity is peaked. “No arguing or funny business?” 

“No arguing or funny business,” Dave repeats.

 _It’s not like we’re going to hook up again,_ Kurt tells himself. Kurt knows that Dave needs a friend more than a hook-up partner. Not to mention, the whole thing played with Kurt’s head. “Okay,” he finally agrees.

A relieved sigh puffs through the line. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kurt says.

“See you.”

The conversation ends and Kurt’s left feeling strange. He doesn’t know if he made a good decision, but the heavy feeling in his chest is gone.

***

It snows two inches on February fourteenth. Kurt wears a pair of knee high wool socks under his snow boots, and thanks his dad for buying him an SUV. _How do other people get around in bad weather?_ Kurt thinks as he drives to Dave’s.

There aren’t many drivers on the road, though there are tire tracks marring the snow down every street Kurt takes. The grass though, all the empty soccer and baseball fields on Mound Street and peoples’ front yards, are pristine layers of fluffy whiteness. Kurt loves the way the snow glitters under the sun’s rays. There are kids having a snow fight at the front of Dave’s neighborhood, and his next-door neighbor has a tall snowman out front.

He parks on the street because Kurt’s afraid that if it ices he won’t be able to get down Dave’s driveway without knocking over his mailbox.  His arms are out for balance as he walks up the drive as it is. He hears Dave’s footsteps inside after he rings the bells.

Heat warms Kurt’s face as Dave opens the door. “Hey.” Dave greets him with a smile.

“Hey,” Kurt replies and hurries inside before his nose freezes and falls off.  He stomps his feet against the mat then toes off his boots to be polite.  He looks up when he’s done and sees Karofsky staring at him with a strange, fond look on his face. Kurt doesn’t know what to make of it, so his tone bites a little when he says, “Okay, I’m here. What do you want to show me?”

Dave shakes his head and reaches out his hand. “Here, let me take your coat.”  Kurt undoes the long row of buttons and shrugs it off his shoulders. As he hands it over he notices Dave’s clothes. Clean, pressed jeans and what looks like new black socks cover his lower half.  A deep blue button-up polo shows off the muscles in his arms. His hair has been neatly brushed. Kurt gets a whiff of Ralph Lauren cologne as Dave steps closer to take the jacket.

“You look nice,” Kurt says suspiciously.

Dave flushes and says, “Thanks.” He turns and heads down the foyer. “Come on.”

Kurt glances around as if someone is going to jump out with a chainsaw. When nothing happens he trails after Dave. He walks past the frame that morphs hallway into kitchen.  He stops dead in his tracks. All of his breath rushes from his lungs.

Straight ahead is an island, on top of is a large bouquet of red roses and a stuffed bear.  A heart shaped box of chocolates is clutched between the bear’s stubby arms.

“It’s for you,” Dave says softly.

Kurt blinks away the sudden tears in his eyes. He stumbles forward and lifts the bear off the counter. Its fur is soft beneath his fingers. Kurt runs its cheek across his nose. The scent of the roses clings to its plush body. He lowers the bear and slips the box of chocolate from its arms. Instead of opening the box, he turns towards Dave.

Before he can say anything, Dave says, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” His fingers play along the hem of his shirt.

Kurt stares at him for a second, but when Dave’s eyes drop to the floor, Kurt hurls himself forward. He wraps his arms around Dave’s larger body and presses his face against Dave’s neck. “Thank you,” he rasps.

Dave arms come around Kurt’s middle. “You’re welcome.” Kurt feels Dave’s throat flex against his cheek.  

He kisses Dave’s jaw. Dave’s chest goes tense against his. Kurt shift back an inch and kisses Dave’s mouth. “Thank you,” he says again.

“I’ve got lunch too,” Dave says. “It’s in the fridge. Greek salad and pita and stuff.”

Kurt steps back and rubs his fingers over his eyes, wiping away the tears. “You made me a Greek salad?”

Dave ducks his head and smiles. “I bought it from that place on High Street.”

Kurt clutches the bear tighter. “I love that place.”

“I know.” Kurt feels fresh tears threatening to fall. Dave moves forward and cups Kurt’s face then leans in for a kiss. It’s soft and light, and Kurt melts into it. The chocolates fall from his fingers and hit the floor.  Neither boy moves.  

Kurt’s legs feel like jelly and his lungs burn when Dave eventually pulls away. They’re both breathing hard. Dave tucks a wayward lock of hair off Kurt’s face then licks his lips. “I like you,” Dave says in a rush. “I mean, I know that’s pretty obvious, but I’ve never really said it before. I like you and want to date you.”

Kurt’s heart explodes. “Like you want to be boyfriends?”

Dave’s head bobs with his furious nod. “I’m still not ready to come out to everyone, but, yeah, I want to be your boyfriend.  Every time I see you I want to kiss you senseless. I spend hours thinking about you every day.”

Dizziness makes Kurt light-headed.  Never in a million years did he expect this.  _Do I want to date Dave Karofsky?_  He looks the other boy over. Nervousness is evident in the tight lines of his eyes and mouth.  Kurt presses forward, lips meet lips; Kurt gives his answer.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Dave’s mouth is hot against Kurt’s neck. Sharp, quick gasps brush along the edge of his ear. Hands roam up and down his back, grasping at his shoulders and kneading his ass. It takes everything in Kurt’s arsenal not to reach down and jerk himself off. That doesn’t stop him from touching Dave. 

“God…” Dave groans, tearing his lips from Kurt’s skin. 

Kurt thrusts against the wide thigh tucked between his legs and rasps, “I love how big you are.” Dave bucks into his hand, and Kurt rewards him by grazing his teeth over Dave’s nipple. 

“Fuck!” 

Kurt hides his grin in the fur of Dave’s chest. He twists his hand then rubs his thumb over the head of Dave’s erection. Dave’s head falls against the pillow as he moans. Kurt pushes on his shoulder. “Roll onto your back.” 

It takes a second for his demand to process, but then Dave’s is peeling away as his shoulders press against the sheet. Kurt rises up for a moment and stares. A flush starts at the tops of Dave’s cheeks and travels into his chest. Sweat glistens across his forehead and down his throat. His nipples are peaked and as hard as his cock. _I did that,_ Kurt thinks, feeling hot.  _I made my boyfriend hard._ Kurt surges over Dave’s body and takes his mouth. He straddles the body beneath him; their erections press together. Dave’s arms wrap around his middle. He holds Kurt still as they melt into each other.  

When they part, Kurt’s head is fuzzy. Dave’s hair sticks to his skin, tickling both his chest and legs. He presses his forehead to Dave’s shoulder for a much needed breather. Fingers thread through his hair, massaging his scalp. A sudden desire overtakes him. Kurt lifts his head. “I want to blow you.” 

Dave’s Adam’s apple bobs; his stomach flutters. “Yeah?” he asks, voice scratchy. 

“Yeah,” Kurt says, mouth flooding salvia. He stares down. Dave’s thick. Kurt has long fingers and it takes almost his whole hand to wrap around. “You aren’t going to judge me on technique are you? I’ve never done this before.” It’s not that he’s  _nervous_. It’s that he’s a  _perfectionist_. 

Dave’s voice is strung like a tightrope. “Well, I’ve never had it done before, and just the thought of your mouth around me has me about to shoot. So, I think you’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” Kurt says. He scoots down the bed, settling on his side next to Dave’s groin. He reaches out and dances his fingertips along the underside. Dave shudders. Kurt looks at him from lowered eyelashes. “Tell me when you’re about to come.” Dave nods a jerky yes.  _Here we go,_ Kurt thinks. 

He dips his head forward and just smells for a second. It’s musky and salty, a pure boy smell. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. Kurt looks up at Dave. His boyfriend’s eyes are frozen forward, pupils blown. His chest is still, as if Dave doesn’t dare breath. 

Kurt takes a deep breath then presses his tongue over the head of Dave’s cock. Dave’s legs tremble. Encouraged, Kurt covers his teeth with his lips and takes in as much as he can. 

He almost chokes.  Coughing, he retreats. 

“You okay?” 

Kurt doesn’t respond. He’s never been one to give up. He heads back in, full force. Soon, his mouth is stretched wide and Dave is brushing the back of his tongue. Kurt feels high. His own body hums, and he’s so hard he can’t think straight. 

The world condenses. The smell of sex clogs his nose. Hands grip at his hair, his arm, and the sheets beneath him. Dave throbs inside his mouth. His skin burns under Kurt’s hand. Kurt can’t stop touching himself. A steady stream of words, mostly curses and Kurt’s name, tumble from Dave’s mouth. They become a buzz of sound. It takes Dave yanking on Kurt’s hair for Kurt to realize that Dave’s groaning, “Fuck… I’m going to come.” 

Orgasm shudders through Dave’s body. Kurt barely pulls back in time. Come hits his chest and chin. Slightly stunned, Kurt shifts to his knees stares down at his boyfriend’s release. He wipes at his face then looks at the mess on his hand. Without thought, his tongue sneaks out and licks at his fingertips. The salty, bitter flavor bursts across his taste buds.  _Not horrible,_ Kurt thinks. 

A hand wraps around Kurt’s wrist. Dave pulls him into a kiss. He releases Kurt and buries his hand in Kurt’s hair. Dave’s other hand stokes up and down Kurt’s cock. “That was so fucking hot,” Dave growls. He sucks hard on Kurt’s neck. “You’re so fucking hot.” Fireworks explode across Kurt’s brain. 

Kurt collapses. Dave’s body is solid beneath him. Kurt can feel the rise and fall of his chest and the heat of his skin. Dave’s palms are relaxed against his back, one between his shoulder blades and the other near swell of his ass. “I don’t think I can move ever again,” Kurt croaks. His mouth is already sore. His lips feel swollen. They ache to throb of his heart. He’s never felt so good in his life. 

“I’d be okay with that,” Dave says. 

Kurt tilts his head. Dave’s face is completely peaceful. His eyes flutter open and shut, as if he’s fighting sleep. “It was good?” 

Dave nods and focus on Kurt. “To say the least.” Kurt smiles. “I came so hard my balls ache.” 

Something that feels like pride surges in his lungs. “You’re such a caveman.” He inches upward and presses his lips against Dave’s in soft kiss. 

Fingers cup the back of his head. Dave deepens the kiss. “You like my caveman act.” 

“Maybe,” Kurt teases. Dave smiles and kisses him again. 

“Want to make out until we’re ready to go again?” Fingers trace down Kurt’s back and settle over his butt cheek. 

Kurt pretends to sigh. “I suppose so.” Dave’s mouth nibbles along his jaw. Kurt’s cock twitches in interest. 

A door slams shut downstairs. “Hey Kurt!” Finn’s voice shouts. 

“Oh my god!” Kurt says, scrambling off Dave. 

Dave jumps off the bed, scanning the floor of his underwear. He spots it by Kurt’s vanity and runs to yank them on. “I thought you said he’d be at Quinn’s all day?” Dave hisses. 

“He was supposed to be!” Kurt throws Dave his pants. Finn stomps up the stairs. 

“Shit!” Dave whispers as he hops into his jeans. 

Kurt shoves Dave’s shirt and jacket into his boyfriend’s arms and pushes him towards the closet. “Hide.” Dave squeezes past the rack of Kurt’s shoes and disappears behind the sliding door. Kurt hears Finn coming up the hall. He hurls himself into bed and wrenches the comforter over his naked body just as Finn hurricanes through his door. 

“Kurt!” Finn shouts, as if Kurt isn’t five feet away on his bed. “You will not believe what happened…” Finns voice dies off as he takes in his step-brother. Kurt clutches the comforter under to his chin. 

“Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Kurt snaps. Finn’s eyes go comically wide. In zero to sixty, his face turns as pink as a watermelon. 

“Uhh…”Finn slams his eyes shut and stumbles backwards. “I’ll come back later.” He flees, slamming Kurt’s door shut behind him. 

Kurt waits until he hears Finn turn on the television downstairs before sliding out of bed and whispering to Dave, “You can come out now.” 

Dave stumbles from the closet. His jeans are unbuttoned and despite the circumstances, Kurt can help flush at the trail of hair that disappears beyond his waistline. He can still taste Dave in the back of his mouth. “You have too many clothes,” Dave says. “I almost suffocated in there.” He tugs his shirt over his head. 

“There’s no such thing as too many clothes,” Kurt replies. He pulls out a clean pair of underwear and slides them on. When he turns back to Dave, he’s already sitting on the edge of his bed tugging on his socks and shoes. “That was close.” The bed dips under Kurt’s weight as he takes the space next to his boyfriend. 

Fingers traces along Kurt’s side. Dave presses a kiss to Kurt’s bare shoulder. “Kind of exciting though,” he whispers. 

Kurt rolls his eyes and pushes his boyfriend back. “More like terrifying. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t freak out if Finn found out about us.” Kurt turns to give Dave a raised eyebrow. 

Whatever Dave is planning to say dies and suddenly, he lets out a chokes laugh. 

“What?” Kurt demands. 

Dave grabs his face and runs his thumb over Kurt’s chin. “No wonder Hudson left so fast,” Dave says, eyes bright with humor. Kurt leans back and sees what’s on Dave’s finger. 

“Gaga!” Kurt says in horror. He dashes to his vanity. The mirror shows what he fears. He twists and glares at Dave. “There’s come on my face!” 

For a second Dave looks guilty. Then he says, “Well, at least Hudson thought it was yours not mine.” Snorting, he falls to the bed and buries his face in a pillow. Kurt can easily see the tremors in Dave’s back as he laughs. 

Kurt does not think it’s funny. Glowering, he grabs a cleansing wipe from the container and scrubs at his face. “Shut up,” he says without turning around. The muffled laughter doesn’t stop. Kurt throws away the soiled wipe and grabs another one for good measure. It never hurts to be  _too_  clean. “I’m never going to be able to face Finn again.” 

Dave rolls over and peeks at Kurt. His face is red from lack of oxygen. “It’s not like he doesn’t do it.” 

Kurt reddens. He’s made it a point  _not_  to think of his step-brother doing anything. Ever. “Do what? Suck off other boys?” 

Dave’s cheeks flush crimson. He stares at Kurt’s mouth and swallows. Suddenly, Kurt feels mischievous. He walks back to the bed and pauses at the edge. He reaches out and slides his hand up Dave’s leg. “Or were you talking about masturbation?” As if Kurt gave a command, Dave’s legs part and Kurt’s hand continues up his jeans. 

Kurt eases himself on the bed, bracing one hand on Dave’s chest and the other on his inner thigh. Preparing to go to battle, Kurt opens his mouth to whisper more filthy acts. His breath catches in his throat as Dave surges upwards and captures his mouth. Large hands hold Kurt’s face still as lips caress his. 

His chest is heaving when Dave pulls away for air. “You’re naughty,” Dave says, breathless. 

“You enjoy my naughtiness,” Kurt replies. He dips his head in for another kiss. 

Dave’s tongue plays across Kurt’s bottom lip for a moment. Then, Dave is sighing and Kurt suddenly has space to breathe. Unwelcomed space. “How am I going to get out of here?” Dave asks, glancing at the door. 

Kurt releases a sigh of his own and slides off the bed. He walks to his dresser and takes out a shirt. “I’ll go down and distract Finn. You can sneak out the garage door.” 

Eyebrows are raised in Kurt’s direction. “Thought you weren’t going to face Hudson ever again?” 

Kurt puts his hands on his hips and says, “I’m taking one for the team. You owe me.” 

Dave grins. “It’s a price I’ll have to bare.” 

“I expect dinner and a night on the town,” Kurt retorts. Then his smile slides off his face as he remembers that they can’t have a night on the town. Someone might see. Kurt turns his back to his boyfriend and shuffles around in his closet for a pair of pants. 

“It’s a good thing I parked down the street, or your step-brother would have recognized my truck outside,” Dave says. His earlier humor has fled. Kurt hears him pad across the room. Arms wrap around Kurt’s middle. Dave’s chin rests against his shoulder. “It’s only a week before my parents are gone for the weekend.” Dave kisses the shell of Kurt’s ear. “We can have a sleepover.” 

There’s nothing sexual in Dave’s words, only a happy sort of welcoming, but Kurt still feels a thrill of nervous lust up his spine. He twists around and wraps his own arms around his boyfriend. He settles his cheek against Dave’s chest. “I’d like that.” 

They stand there for a minute, quiet in each other’s embrace. Kurt can hear the gentle hum of the television downstairs. There are a few birds twittering outside, signs of the approaching spring. Dave smells of cooled sweat and sex. For once, Kurt doesn’t mind if he smells the same. Kurt’s cheek moves up and down with Dave’s chest, and if Kurt listens hard enough, he can hear Dave’s heartbeat. 

Then Dave sighs and pulls away. “I better get going, before your Dad makes an appearance.” Kurt nods, but says nothing. 

_ I hate this,  _ he thinks.  _I wish we would go downstairs, holding hands, and cuddle on the couch together and watch tv with my family._ It’s unrealistic. Kurt’s not stupid. Dave’s not ready to come out, and Kurt can imagine the drama that would unfold if his dad found out he’s dating his ex-bully.

“Okay,” Kurt says. He presses a quick kiss to Dave’s lips. “I’m going to go down first and talk to Finn. Sneak out through the garage door.” Dave nods and dips forward for another kiss. 

“I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” Dave says. 

Kurt smiles, but thinks,  _And we won’t even say hello._ “Alright,” he says aloud, forcing cheerfulness in his tone. “Let’s do this.” He holds out his fist for a bump. Dave laughs and gives him what he wants. 

*** 

Monday morning dawns bright and cheery. The temperature jumps twenty degrees, and Kurt gets to pull out his leggings, wide blue belt, and that long grey sweater he bought a Gap in the fall. Tuesday is equally as nice, and Kurt can help but smile at the sixty degree weather. 

“I love March,” he tells Mercedes. Wednesday, he wakes up shivering. There’s frost on his window, and the heat gets turned back on during breakfast. It’s flurrying by the time Kurt drives home from school. 

Kurt putters around the empty house. Pulling out the chicken from the fridge to begin dinner preparations, Kurt barely hears his phone ringing. “Ahh!” he says, quickly washing his hands then lunging for his cell. 

“Hey!” he greets, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear.  “I thought you were at basketball practice.” 

“We got out early,” Dave says. “Coach Sylvester came in and started throwing marbles onto the court.” Kurt snorts, because  _that_  isn’t surprising. “Whatcha doing?” 

Kurt smiles into the phone. “Preparing dinner. Chicken breasts with a mushroom cream sauce.” 

A whistle pierces through the phone. “Fancy smancy. I’m cooking Ramen noodles.” 

“I don’t think you actually cook Ramen noodles.” Kurt opens the pantry and pulls out a bag of garlic and a yellow onion. 

“Are you going to feed me something fancy when you come over Friday?” Dave’s voice is full of innuendo. Kurt can’t help but flushing.   

His voice is husky when he replies. “Do you want to be fed something fancy?” The thought of Dave mouth sucking him has Kurt aching against the zipper of his pants. 

There’s a sharp inhale on the line then Dave says, “I wouldn’t mind something fancy in my mouth.” 

Kurt swallows and presses his hand against the edge of the kitchen island. “Really?” 

“Mmm-hmm. I also would mind being inside something fancy.” 

Kurt’s brain stutters. They really haven’t talked about _it_  yet. Sex. Intercourse. Fucking.  _Oh Gaga._ The thought leaves him hot and nervous at the same time. Because does he want to have sex with his boyfriend?  _Hell yes._ Kurt’s not stupid. He knows what the act entails, but even still, he’s not completely sure everything that goes into it. 

“Kurt?” Kurt blinks and realizes that Dave’s called his name twice. 

“Sorry. Got distracted.” 

There’s a pause, then Dave asks. “Are you okay with us going all the way? Cause I was kind of planning that for the weekend.” 

“Yeah, I’d be okay with a little jock in me this weekend.” 

Dave snorts. “Little? You’ve been sleeping with Puckerman?” 

Kurt chuckles. “Uh, no.” Kurt hears the garage door open and shut. His dad walks inside. Burt raises his eyebrows at Kurt in greeting. Kurt smiles back. “Sorry. I have to go. Dad’s here. See you Friday.” 

“Bye.” 

Kurt hears the dial tone and sets down is own phone. “Hey dad.” 

Burt sets his hat on the hook near the door and asks, “What’s up?” 

“Oh nothing,” Kurt replies. “Just going over details with Mercedes for our sleepover Friday night. We decided on cucumber facials and  _Rent_  for our musical of the evening.” 

“Sounds fun,” Burt says, left eyebrow arched. 

Kurt ignores his dad’s sarcasm. “I heard basketball practice got out early.” 

Burt nods. “Yeah. Finn called me and told me he’s going over Quinn’s house for dinner. Carole should be home in an hour though.” 

“Okay,” Kurt says. “We’re having chicken breasts in a mushroom cream sauce.” 

“Cream sauce?” his dad asks hopefully. 

“It has a skim milk base, but don’t worry, it’s still going to be delicious.” The image of Dave’s mouth doing naughty things pops into Kurt’s head. He turns away from his dad to hide his blush. 

“Hey Kurt, come sit down with me at the table. There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Kurt turns back to his father, because that tone of voice never leads to anything good. 

Burt has a bunch of pamphlets in his hand. When Kurt spies the picture of the teen boy on the front of one and the word sex on another, a sinking feeling drops his stomach. “What’s going on?” Kurt asks carefully. 

“I talked to Finn the other day,” Burt begins. “Something was off with him, and one thing led to another and he told me he walked into you masturbating.” 

_ Oh my god.  _ “Oh my god.” Kurt closes his eyes.  _Maybe if I don’t look he’ll disappear._

“It’s nothing to be ashamed off Kurt. Everyone does it.” Burt’s hand lands on his shoulder. Kurt squeezes his eyes shut harder. “Kurt,” Burt says. Kurt knows his dad wants his attention. Swallowing, Kurt steels himself for the worse and opens his eyes. 

“It’s time we had the talk.” 

Kurt shakes his head. “No, I really think it’s not.” 

“Kurt…” 

“Seriously Dad, I’ll be fine without a sex talk.”  _I just said sex in front of my father. Kill me now._

Burt’s other hand lands on Kurt’s other shoulder. He pushes Kurt towards the table. “This isn’t going to be fun for either of us, but we’re going to do it and be men about it,” Burt tells him. 

Somehow, Kurt finds himself sitting across from his Dad. Burt slides the pamphlets over the tabletop. “I didn’t know much about what two gay guys do, so I stopped by the free clinic and picked these up for both of us. They cover all the mechanics.” 

Kurt reaches forward and tentatively picks up the pamphlets. Despite the fact he feels more mortified than ever before, his heart can’t stop from swelling with love. 

“I want you to read them and come talk to me about them,” Burt says. Kurt gives a jerky nod and begins to rise from the table. “Hold on. We’re not finished.” 

“We’re not?” Kurt squeaks. 

“No.” Kurt settles back down. Paper crinkles between his fingers. “I know you’ve recently found out that you’re not the only gay kid around.” 

Dave flashes in his mind. “You did?” His dad doesn’t seem to be freaking out, which is a good thing. Looking uncomfortable, yes, but freaking out, no. 

Burt nods. “I know it didn’t work out with that boy from Dalton…” 

_ Blaine, oh. _

“But, I know you’ll find others soon. I realize that you’re a healthy teenage boy that it probably won’t be long until you find some who likes you as much as you like them.” 

Kurt licks his lips and says nothing. 

“You have to know that sex is a big thing. It affects you, no matter what anyone says.” 

“Affects you how?” Kurt asks. 

Burt touches his chest and head. “Here and here. Guys have this idea that sex is just something fun to do.” 

“It’s not?” Because it’s been a  _blast_  so far. 

“Well, it is fun. Probably one of the most fun things you can do, but it not just fun. Sex changes who you are. It affects the way you think and the way you feel.” Burt sets both of his hands on the table. “I know a lot of guys that have gotten in way too deep with a girl who said she just wanted to have fun.” 

“Girls are different?” 

“Only in the sense that they know it’s about something more. Something deeper.” 

“Are you saying that I should never have sex?” Kurt asks, because if the rest is anything like what he’s done so far, Kurt won’t be able to follow that rule. 

“I think that on your thirtieth birthday, it would be a great present for yourself.” 

“Dad,” Kurt reprimands. 

Burt smiles. “Kurt, I’m not going to stop you from having sex at whatever age. I just want you to be ready. I want you to be in love, and for the guy you choose to love you back. Because Kurt, sex affects your self-esteem, the way you view yourself. It connects you with someone in way nothing else can. You deserve to be with someone who wants nothing but the best for you, who wants to connect with you as much as you want to connect with him. You deserve that Kurt. You are better than some random hook-up.” 

Tears prickle the corners of Kurt’s eyes. He gives his dad a watery smile. “Thanks Dad.” 

Burt nods and stands. “You’re welcome. Okay, we’re done. You’re free.”   

Kurt looks down at the materials in his hands. “I’ll finish cooking dinner and look at my pamphlets.” 

Pink touches Burt’s cheeks. “I’ll be out in the garage.” 

Kurt nods and watches his dad head out. All of the earlier lust he had been feeling is gone. His chest feels tight and even though he didn’t love that conversation, he wishes it could have been longer.  _I have a boyfriend Dad,_ Kurt wants to say.  _Should I have sex with him? We already kind of have been fooling around. Should I continue? We can’t even hold hands at school._ Kurt pushes back the lump in his throat. He sets the pamphlets on the counter and begins to work on dicing the mushrooms. 

_ Am I making a mistake? _

*** 

Kurt doesn’t bring up his talk with his Dad to anyone, but Finn keeps giving him sideways glances every five seconds for the next two days, so Kurt figures he already knows and probably got a talk of his own. Dave doesn’t mention Kurt’s somber mood, but he does seem to notice. When Kurt shows up at his house on Friday night he greets Kurt with a tender kiss and nothing more. 

“Are you hungry yet?” Dave asks. “Because I know we planned to order pizza, but I made dinner instead.” 

“You made dinner?” Dave nods and Kurt’s spirits begin to lift. 

He leads Kurt into the kitchen. Kurt smells something tangy. “Nothing like you can cook, but I found this recipe for ginger chicken online. Everyone said it was easy to make, and I just followed the directions. I hope it tastes okay.” When Kurt rounds the corner of the foyer his spirits rise even higher. 

The kitchen lights are dimmed. Two tall candles burn between place settings on the table. There’s a fresh bouquet of roses as a center piece. Now that he’s listening, soft instrumental music plays from somewhere in the living room. He turns back to Dave. “You did all of this for me?” 

Dave shrugs. “You’re my boyfriend.” His eyes flicker to the ground. “I wanted this to be special.” 

Something that feels like love flutters in Kurt’s chest. “Dave…” 

Dave interrupts him. “I could tell you’ve been nervous since we talked about it on Wednesday. I thought we could have a nice dinner, watch a movie, then see where things go. If all we do it make out, that’s fine.” 

For the second time that week tears fill Kurt’s eyes. He steps forward and wraps his arms around his boyfriend. “My dad gave me a sex talk.” 

Dave’s mouth falls open and surprise floods his expression. “Oh. That sucks,” Dave offers tentatively, as if he’s not sure what to say to that. 

Kurt ignores the expression. “Besides the awkwardness of it all, he imparted some really good advice.” Kurt tucks his body even closer into Dave’s. “He told me that sex is a big deal that I should only sleep with someone I love and want to connect with.” 

“Oh,” Dave says again. His eyes war between hurt and confusion. 

Kurt takes a deep breath. “I want to have sex with you,” he says, then adds. “Tonight.” 

For a moment, Dave wears a stunned expression. Then a wide grin splits his face and he dips forward and takes Kurt’s mouth in a heated kiss. When he pulls back Kurt says humorously, “I even brought pamphlets on how to have comfortable gay sex.” 

Dave laughs then kisses him again. Kurt melts into the action and allows his hands to roam up and down Dave’s broad back.  _We might have to skip the dinner and movie._

The sound of the doorbell ringing pulls them apart.  _“_ Ignore it,” Kurt demands. He grabs Dave’s head and drags him back in. Their tongues twist playfully around each other. The doorbell rings again. 

“Shit,” Dave says. “Hold on, it’s probably the kid from next-door. He locks himself outside like once a week. His parents gave us a key.” 

Kurt pouts. “Hurry back.” 

Kurt rests against the counter and watches Dave’s ass as he walks away. He disappears from sight as he turns the corner into the foyer. Kurt hears the door being unlocked, then Dave saying, “What are you doing here?” 

“Why is Kurt’s car out front?” The words slam down the hallway into Kurt’s stomach. 

_ Finn. _

_ Oh, Shit.  _

 


	19. Chapter 19

** Part 19  **

“Well Karofsky? Why the hell is my brother’s SUV out front?” Finn demands. Kurt eases towards the living room, just in case Finn steps inside and catches a glimpse of his step-brother. 

_ What I should do?  _ Kurt thinks, scouring for a place to hide. There’s a closet door not too far away, and there’s another short hall that lays claim to a bathroom and laundry room. He hears Dave’s voice, but he misses what his boyfriend says.

“Now you’re lying to me?” Finn shouts. “I know that’s Kurt’s car.” 

_ Keep lying,  _ Kurt tells Dave silently.  _Just keep denying it and he’ll start to believe you._

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Hudson. That’s my dad’s car.” 

“You dad just happens to have the same SUV that my brother drives?” Finn questions. It’s not one of his typical inquiries. Kurt recognizes the surety in his step-brother’s voice. 

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” 

Kurt imagines Finn’s chest puffing up in anger. Dave face’s is probably red and scowling. 

“Yeah, I do Karofsky. Because I know that isn’t your Dad’s car. I know it’s Kurt’s, because hanging from the rearview mirror is the music note I bought him for Christmas. Not to mention the fact my basketball duffel bag is sitting in the backseat.” 

_ Shit!  _ Kurt curses.  _I knew I should have taken the time to bring that inside._ He had been too eager to pack up his own clothes and get to Dave’s.

“Is Kurt here?” Finn hollers. 

Kurt hears footsteps, a loud, “FUCK!” and then Finn’s barreling through the foyer doorframe. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees his step-brother.  _Why didn’t I hide?_ Kurt’s eyes dart to the closet door. _Too late now._ Dave comes flying in behind Finn, bumping the boy with his chest. They both stumble forward, and Finn eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What’s going on?” Finn asks, gazing traveling from Kurt to Dave and back again. Kurt glances at his boyfriend. Dave’s jaw is clenched tight; his fingers are curled in fists by his sides. Kurt meets his gaze, but Dave says nothing. 

_ Lie,  _ Kurt’s brain tells him.  _Lie like you’ve never lied before._ Then a stray thought sneaks in.  _Would it be so bad if Finn knows?_

“Fancy is helping me with my math homework,” Dave grunts. He crosses his arms, daring Finn to question him. 

Finn twists around and stares at the larger boy. His mouth draws into a thin line. His eyebrows buckle together and he says, “Kurt’s not in any of your classes, and you hate each other, why would he help you with your homework?” Kurt’s got to give his step-brother credit- he’s not always a dim light bulb. The soft violin music playing chooses that moment to switch to an upbeat tune involving a fast-pace piano solo. Finn’s eyes swing to the living room, where the music waltzing through. His eyes stop at the kitchen table. 

Slowly, Finn walks forward. Neither Kurt nor Dave move a muscle. Finn reaches the table and touches the flowers. “What’s with all the romantic stuff?” Finn directs the question towards Kurt. Before Kurt can answer, there’s a sharp inhale of breath and Finn spins around. “Is this date?” he cries out. “Because this looks like a date.” 

“It’s a date,” Kurt admits. 

At the same time Dave says, “No, why the hell would you say that?” 

Everyone freezes. Finn looks from Dave to Kurt again, and then asks the question over. “Is this a date?” 

Kurt locks eyes with his boyfriend. Dave presses his teeth together then closes his eyes. Kurt turns towards his step-brother. “It’s a date.” 

Finn’s mouth drops open. “But, you’re gay. And a dude,” Finn says. 

Laughter floods Kurt’s chest, but tears prick the corners of his eyes. He crosses his arms and retorts. “Great observation.” 

Brown eyes turn towards Dave. “Are you on a date with my brother?” 

Dave’s throat bobs. Kurt imagines he’s swallowing down his anger and fear. His eyes flash open and Dave snarls, “Yes Hudson, I’m on a date with your brother.” Finn’s mouth flops open even more. Dave takes a step forward and raises fist. “And if you tell anyone I’ll beat your head in.” 

Finn’s face flushes purple and his own hands curl tightly. 

“Stop it!” Kurt shouts. Both heads swing toward him. “Dave, stop it. You’re not going to beat up Finn. And Finn,” Kurt’s hand shoots out and grab’s his step-brother’s arm. He yanks out a kitchen chair and forces Finn to sit down, “isn’t going to tell anyone.” Kurt narrows his eyes and glares at the boy in the chair. “Are you?” 

“Uhh…” Finn’s wearing his deer in headlights expression. Kurt kneels in front of his step-brother and grabs his hands. 

“You are not going to tell anyone. Say it.” Kurt feels Dave move behind him. A knee brushes his back. “Finn.” 

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Finn rushes out. 

The knot in Kurt’s chest doesn’t ease.  “Not anyone Finn. Not Quinn or your mom or Dad. No one knows.”   

Finn swallows. 

“Promise me.” Kurt squeezes Finn’s fingers. 

A huge inhale of breath echoes across the kitchen. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Finn’s chest deflates and some of Kurt’s worry disappears. Kurt looks over his shoulder at Dave. “See, no harm, no foul.” Dave doesn’t look convinced. Kurt rises to his feet and touches his boyfriend’s arm. “It’s good thing. Finn can cover for us.” Finn’s mouth twists into a frown.Kurt can see the words,  _I didn’t agree to that,_ forming in Finn’s eyes, so he shoots his step-brother a glare. 

The expression dies. Finn coughs nervously, eyes darting towards Dave. “So, uh, you guys were about to have a date?” Kurt opens his mouth to reply, but suddenly, wrinkles appear between Finn’s eyes and he asks, “Hey, weren’t you supposed to have a sleepover with Mercedes tonight? Was that just a cover?” 

“Yes, that was a cover.” 

Finn nods. “But what were you going to do the rest of the night? I mean, you couldn’t come home after dinner.” 

Kurt glances at Dave. His jaw is still clenched, but the tension in his arms has eased. “I wasn’t planning to come home after dinner,” Kurt replies. 

“But what were you,” Finn cuts off and flushes red. “Oh.” He looks at the burning candles. He clears his throat and stares at the table. Dave shifts his weight and the floor creaks. Finn’s eyes jump upward. “So,” he says nervously. “How long have you been gay?” 

_ Oh Gaga,  _ Kurt thinks. He presses his side into Dave’s and tries to project calming waves. “Finn,” Kurt snaps. Finn flushes, but surprisingly, Dave doesn’t seem too angry.

“Uh, a while,” Dave says. “Always,” he corrects. 

“Oh,” Finn says with a nod. He starts picking at the plastic placemat on the table. “So, why did you pick on Kurt then?” 

Dave’s face clouds with anger. Kurt’s pretty sure it’s at himself. Kurt doesn’t want his boyfriend to focus on the past, not when everything is going so well. So he snaps, “Because he was confused Finn.” 

Finn’s familiar enough with his step-brother to know when to drop a subject. That doesn’t mean the boy knows the right questions to ask. “Are you two dating for real, or is this like a friends with benefits thing because you’re both gay?” 

Kurt glances back at Dave and sees his eye twitch. “Finn, we’re dating, boyfriends, lovers, whatever you want to call it. No one else knows, and it’s going to stay that way. End of story.” 

Horror slides into Finn’s eyes and he mouths the word,  _lovers?_ Kurt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. This was not how he planned to spend his evening. “Look, why don’t you go home and eat some of the cookies your mom hides in the China cabinet.” 

Finn runs his palms across his thighs. “Uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea that I go home right now.” 

“Why not?” Dave asks, an edge of worry still colors his tone. 

Finn opens his mouth to speak, but Kurt beats him to it. “Because he’s afraid he’ll blab his mouth.” 

“My mom has like magical powers,” Finn says, eyes flickering to the table. 

_ No, it’s more that you crack under pressure like a weak egg,  _ Kurt thinks snidely.

“Maybe I should stay here,” Finn offers. 

“What? Hell no,” Dave says. 

A throb of pain begins at Kurt’s temples. “Why don’t you go over to Quinn’s? Get your mind on something else.” 

Finn’s blush returns and he speaks to the table when he says, “I just left Quinn’s. Her mom came home early and caught us making out on the couch.” Finn shrugs. “She made me leave.” His gaze lifts and meets Kurt’s. “Her new place is only a block or so from here. I got a bit turned around on the way out. I pulled down this street to turn around and saw your car.” 

_ I should have parked somewhere else and made Dave pick me up,  _ Kurt bemoans. “Can you go over Puck’s or something?” Kurt asks.

“Umm…” Finn squints, which Kurt knows is his classic thinking pose. 

There’s a moment of quiet and then Kurt gives up. “Oh for heaven’s sake.” He crosses his arms and looks at Dave. “Can you set him up with your x-box?” 

Dave frowns, but Finn immediately perks up. “Do you have the new ESPN Live? Cause I heard that’s pretty sweet.” 

Dave’s eyebrows are nearly touching. He looks like he would like nothing more than to punch Finn in the mouth then throw him outside. Kurt wiggles his fingers, grabbing his boyfriend’s attention and mouths, _Please?_

A sigh echoes through the kitchen. “Come on,” Dave says, turning his back towards Finn. He starts down the hallway. “It’s in my room. The new football graphics are awesome.” Finn jumps up like an overeager puppy and trails after Dave’s retreating form. Kurt watches them go. His shoulders don’t drop until both boys are out of sight. 

“What a mess,” he whispers to himself. He runs his palm over his face then rubs at his temples. After a moment, Kurt heads towards the living room to turn off the music.  _Might as well clean up, because we aren’t having our date now._ Not that Kurt’s in the mood anymore. The romanticness of the evening is gone, and Kurt’s libido is hiding in a hole somewhere. 

Footsteps groan against the floorboards upstairs. Kurt hears the muffled sound of Dave’s television. Feeling sorry for himself, Kurt wanders to the kitchen table and bends down to smell the roses. Sweetness tickles his nose. His fingers dance around some of the outer petals. They are silky smooth. 

“We can still have dinner.” 

Kurt whirls around, startled by Dave’s presence. He lets his fingers drop. “The night’s kind of ruined.” He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter. It just comes out that way. 

Dave shrugs. “Well the food’s going to go to waste if we don’t eat it. We could grab plates and watch a movie.” His eyes meet Kurt’s. “If you’re not scared of my cooking, that is.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of Kurt’s mouth. “I laugh in the face of danger.”   

“Go choose a movie. I’ll get the food and meet you in there.” 

Kurt nods and heads towards the living room. Dave and his family are movie aficionados. They have a large entertainment center with hundreds of DVDs lining the sides.  There’s a good portion of action movies that Kurt skips on by. He’s through the third row when he spots a gem. “Have you ever seen Love Actually?” Kurt calls out. 

Dave comes into the living room, a plate full of food in each hand. “Nope. Is it a chick flick?” 

Kurt puts it in the DVD player and heads over for his food. “I promise it’s nothing too girly. Finn’s watched it with me before. It’s a great movie.” He relieves Dave of one of the plates and sits down on the couch. Dave picks up the remote then settles down beside Kurt. Kurt toes off his shoes and tucks his feet under him. His feet brush along Dave’s thigh. 

“If it sucks horribly I have the right to turn it off,” Dave says. He reaches down and runs his fingers over Kurt’s ankle. 

Kurt lets out and over-exaggerated sigh. “Oh, all right. Agreed.” He takes a bite his chicken. “This is pretty good.” 

A pleased smile flushes over Dave’s face. “Thanks.” He sets his own plate on top of the arm of the couch and tugs on Kurt’s shirt. Kurt goes with the motion, balancing his plate carefully, and leans against Dave’s side. Dave flicks on the television. 

The movie pops up on the screen. Decade old previews begin to play. The sound of the video game upstairs fades away. Kurt looks over at Dave. 

“What?” Dave asks. 

Kurt leans in and kisses his boyfriends jaw. “I’m proud of you, for the way you’re handling this.” 

He shrugs, but red floods his cheeks. “It’s your brother. What can I do?” 

A happy sort of bubble expands his Kurt’s chest. He gives Dave another quick kiss then settles down with his food. Maybe this evening isn’t as wasted as he thought. 

*** 

Ten days later Kurt’s starting to feel weird about how well everything is going. He had pretty much resigned himself for a tongue lashing and never-ending grounding from Dad, or a lecture on illicit affairs from Rachel or Mercedes. Yet, no one has said anything about his relationship with David Karofsky. Not even Finn. 

After leaving Dave’s house that Friday, Finn hasn’t cornered him or wrote him any bumbling, but well-meaning text messages.  Other than one red-faced question— _Are you, uh, going to be busy today?­—_ this past Saturday, Finn hasn’t said anything at all. 

Kurt’s pretty sure his step-brother is trying to forget everything he learned. Or possibly, he’s been busy balancing Quinn Fabray’s prom queen scheduling book. Either way, things are going so smoothly, that Kurt’s afraid it’s the eye of the storm. 

He gets a text message from Donkey Kong between fifth and sixth period.  _We still on for tonight?_ Mondays are their weekly sneak-meetings at the state college. The college is always crowded, and Kurt and Dave just blend right in with everyone else. They only go near Mr. Karofsky’s office if the building is emptied out. 

Kurt’s about to text back,  _It’s a go,_ when Tina flags him down with a large-arched wave. Kurt lifts an eyebrow. “Emergency glee meeting after school,” she says the moment he’s close enough to hear. 

“What? Why?” His hope of a stress-relieving hand-job in the rather large storage closet of the second floor math wing dashes to pieces. 

Tina shakes her head. “I don’t know. Mr. Schue told me to tell everyone. He seemed panicked.”    

“Mr. Schue always sounds panicked,” Kurt says. He tucks a stray piece of hair back into place. 

“It seemed real this time,” Tina says. She squeezes his arm. “Hold on. There’s Sam. I’ve got to go.” Her mouth dips upward in a lack-luster goodbye smile. Kurt watches her leave over his shoulder. 

Sighing, he taps on his phone.  _Emergency glee meeting. Sorry. I need a rain check._ _ L _

 The answer is immediate.  _Lame._

Kurt looks around to see if anyone is watching. The bell’s about to ring; the hallways are quickly emptying. He curls his phone closer to his body and writes,  _I’ll make it up to you. ;P_

The response takes bit longer this time. Dave’s probably already in his class.   _I’m already imagining the ways. *wink*_

Laughter bubbles in his chest. The bell rings.  _G2G. I’ll text you after glee._ Kurt shoves his phone in his pocket and hurries to American History. 

*** 

“We can’t use Sing for Regionals,” Mr. Schuester says, flapping a pile of stapled papers in their faces. 

“What!!” choruses around the room. 

“Mr. Schuester,” Artie says, “Regionals is five days away.” 

Their teacher nods, motioning with his hands for everyone to calm down. Kurt notes that the curly-haired man is red in the face. “I know,” Mr. Schue says. “It’s cutting it close, but we’ve got a cease and desist from the band.” 

“How do we know it’s legit?” Kurt asks. 

“I’ve already looked into that.” Mr. Schuester shakes his head and frowns. “We’re going to have to pick a different song.” 

The choir room explodes with voices. Rachel’s voice is the loudest, as usual. “We need to write our own songs.” 

That sends another round of opinions hurling through the air. Kurt’s not opposed to the idea, but they only have a week, and Rachel’s last attempt at music writing still shows up in Kurt’s nightmares. 

“I agree with Rachel,” Quinn says, and that shuts everyone up. 

There’s some more talking, but Kurt doesn’t hear some of it because he’s too busy trying to process the fact that Quinn just agreed that Rachel should write their Regional music. He twists in his seat and stares at the blonde ex-cheerleader. He face looks honest, but Kurt’s had some practice at lying. He recognizes a scheme when he sees one. His eyes drift towards Finn.  _Maybe my step-brother is hiding his own secret relationship._ Kurt decides there’ll be a talk between them before bed tonight. 

Then it’s somehow decided that Rachel and Quinn are going to write their opening number and the rest of them are going to write the main event.  _We’re going to lose._   

*** 

“So I’m pretty sure that something is going to between Finn and Rachel again,” Kurt says. He drags his fingers down the bulge of Dave’s bicep. They’re sitting in his SUV in the abandoned parking lot of the old Big Lots. It used to be a big make-out spot for McKinley High students, but after a crackdown by the local PD, most of the students have found other spots to go at it. Kurt and Dave have chose a spot tucked in the back of the building near a beaten down truck dock. It’s almost impossible to see unless you’re right there. 

“Finn denies it, says he’s happy with Quinn, but I have my doubts.” Dave wraps his fingers in Kurt’s and brings their hands downwards. Kurt rolls his eyes. “You have such a one track mind.” 

Dave flashes him a wicked smirk. “I haven’t seen you in four days, how am I supposed to act?” 

_ That’s not technical true,  _ Kurt thinks. They brush by each other in the halls almost every day at school. They just don’t acknowledge each other.  Kurt licks his lips and tentatively broaches the topic. “We could see each other every day.”

Dave’s brows come together. “How? Did you find a new spot?” Then he adds jokingly,  
 “Are you quitting glee?” 

“No,” Kurt says. He twists in his seat, careful of the gear shift, and presses a light kiss to Dave’s lips. “We could tell people we’re a couple. Then we could make out at school like everyone else.” 

The reaction is immediate. Dave flinches back and shakes his hand free from Kurt. “Why are you bringing that up? We talked about this.” 

Disappointment floods through Kurt. He sits back in his seat. “I know,” he says. “I just thought that with how okay you were with Finn finding out…” 

Dave’s anger is instant. “First of all,” he snaps. “I am not okay with Finn finding out. I’m dealing with it because he’s your brother.” 

_ Step-brother,  _ Kurt’s brain unhelpfully adds.

“He knows that if he tells anyone I’m going to punch his face in.” 

_ That _  pisses Kurt off. His spine snaps straight, and he says through clenched teeth, “You have no right to act like that. Finn did nothing wrong. It’s my fault I left my car in your driveway. And he hasn’t said anything to anyone.”

Dave’s hands curl into fists. His jaw ticks and he looks out the window. A large inhale of breath sucks through the car. 

_ If he doesn’t say something I’m going to kick him out of the car. _  Kurt’s finger hovers over the automatic lock.

Finally, Dave grates back, “I know. I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound all that sincere, but it’s a start. Kurt forces himself to take a step back. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of his own. “Look,” Dave says. Kurt’s eyes snap back open and he gives his boyfriend his complete attention. “I know you want me to be out and proud like you, but I just can’t do that. I thought you knew that.” 

“I did. I do,” Kurt says. His eyes flicker to the dashboard, because he needs a second away. He  _did_  know that, getting into this. 

Dave continues talking, even without Kurt’s eyes. “I like what we have. I like you.”  He reaches out and takes Kurt’s hand. Kurt let’s his gaze travel back. 

“I know,” Kurt says. “I do too.” 

Dave squeezes his hand. “Why do you need things to change?” 

Kurt’s heart summersaults then falls into his stomach. “I don’t,” he says soft. Dave gives him a half-smile. He leans forward and presses his lips against Kurt’s. 

“Come here.” He tugs Kurt over the cup holders into his lap. 

“I’m too tall for this,” Kurt says as his head brushes the ceiling of the car. 

Dave’s hands run soothingly up his back. Then he drops a hand and reclines the seat. “There, room for your head.” He kisses Kurt’s jaw and draws him closer. Their chests rest against one another. Dave threads his hand through Kurt’s hair. “You are so beautiful,” Dave whispers in his ear. 

Kurt drops his head in the crook of Dave’s neck and lets his boyfriend suck on his ear. He forces away any negative feels and puts all of his energy into making himself feel happy. 

*** 

Kurt wakes up Friday morning with a knot of nervous energy in his stomach. 

“Today is Regionals!” Finn practically shouts at the breakfast table, as if that wasn’t Kurt’s first thought of the day. 

“Starts at six, right?” Carole asks as she pours Kurt a cup of coffee. He nods and reaches for the non-dairy creamer. Carole smiles. “Burt and I will be there early to get good seats.” 

“Think we’re ready?” Finn asks when they get in the car. 

“Yeah. I think our main number is Lady Gaga awesome,” Kurt says. “Rachel called me last night and sang her song. It blew me away.” He eyes his step-brother. “It’s about you, you know.” 

Finn flushes. Kurt raises an eyebrow. “At least I know you were telling the truth about there not being a secret relationship.” 

“That bad, huh?” Finn looks out the window. 

“She’s definitely still in love with you.” Finn’s shoulders tense, and Kurt feels sympathy creeping in. “It helped her make an amazing opening number.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Finn says unconvincingly. 

“At least she’s willing to tell the world she loves you.” The words slip out before Kurt can catch them. 

Finn’s flush darkens. Tentatively, he asks, “Things, uh, not going well?” He doesn’t say Dave’s name, but that doesn’t surprise Kurt in the least. Finn’s been avoiding everything Dave Karofsky shaped. 

Kurt sighs. “No, it’s fine. It’s just hard not being able to you know, hold hands and eat lunch together.” 

Finn nods. “Yeah, that sucks.” He doesn’t sound particularly sorry, but Kurt gives him credit anyway. “Secret relationships are hard,” Finn adds. “They can’t come to your games or cheer you on or anything.” His attention drifts away and Kurt knows Finn is thinking about the few weeks his and Quinn’s relationship was a secret. 

_ It was so not the same thing,  _ Kurt thinks cynically.

Then Finn says, “It sucks that he can’t come to Regionals and see you rock the house.” 

Kurt’s stomach clenches. “What do you mean? He’s coming to Regionals.” 

Surprise flutters over Finn’s face. “Oh, he is? I didn’t think he could explain showing up at something like that.” 

Anger fizzes in Kurt’s throat.  _Something like that?_ Aloud he snaps, “Of course he’s coming. He knows how important Regionals are to me. He’ll just sit in the back that’s all.”  _And not talk to you at all_. Sourness pours over the anger.  _Stop it Kurt. Showing up is enough._

“Oh,” Finn says again. “That’s cool. I figured you guys didn’t even talk about stuff like that.” 

_ What do think we talk about?  _ Kurt thinks, but he doesn’t ask, because he doesn’t want to know. He pulls into the school parking lot. “We are a real couple, even if no one else knows about it.”

Finn holds up his hands then unbuckles his seatbelt. “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you. I think that’s cool.” 

Kurt gives his step-brother a curt nod, accepting his apology. It’s only as he shuts the car door does he realize that he and Dave  _haven’t_  talked about it. Unease floods his belly. 

*** 

_ Meet me in the audio visual room,  _ Kurt texts the second Finn disappears into the school.  _It’s an emergency._ He doesn’t wait for reply. He heads straight for the classroom (okay, glorified closet) to make sure it’s clear.

Luckily, the room is empty when Kurt gets there. It’s only a minute before the door opens and Dave steps inside. “What’s wrong?” Dave asks worriedly the second after he scans the room. 

Kurt jumps on him right away. “You’re coming to see me sing at Regionals right?” 

Confusion flickers through Dave’s eyes. “That’s your emergency? Shit Kurt, I thought you had been beat up or some shit.” 

Kurt crosses his arms. “Answer the question.” 

“Uh, no. Why would I come your concert?” Dave says. He sways backwards, as if he knows he’s about to step into deep waters. 

“Why would you come to one of the most important competitions of my life?” Kurt barks. He throws up his hands. “How about because you’re my boyfriend!” 

“Shit,” Dave curses. “Don’t be so loud.” He glances at the door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you worried I might blow your heterosexual cover?” 

“Jesus, what’s got into you?” Dave steps forwards. 

Kurt ducks out of Dave’s reach. Wetness trickles down his face. Quickly, he wipes the tears away. “I want you to come to Regionals.”  _There, it’s said. He can’t be confused._

“Kurt,” Dave huffs. “You know I can’t do that.” 

“Why not? I’m not asking you to shout my name or bring me flowers. I’m just asking you to come, sit in the back, and support me. No one will even know you’re there.” 

He shakes his head. “Why are you asking me this? You know I can’t come.” 

Anger resurges. “No, you can. You just won’t.” 

Dave takes his anger and shoves it back at Kurt. “What the hell? You’re being a bitch.” 

Kurt throws his hand up. “I’m being a bitch? Screw you Dave Karofsky. If you don’t show up to Regionals we’re done.” 

Dave slams his fist onto a nearby desk.  Kurt flinches. “Why are you doing this?” 

Suddenly, Kurt can’t be in this space. He needs to leave. “It starts at six.” He brushes past Dave and slams the door on the way out for good measure. 

When Mercedes asks him what wrong, he doesn’t answer. 

*** 

Kurt can barely focus on what he’s supposed to be doing. He has to redo his tie three times before it looks right. The bus ride to Regionals is torture. Everyone is excited, and all Kurt can think of is Dave. It takes everything in his being not to break down crying.  _He’ll show up,_ Kurt tells himself. Even if Dave’s never said it, Kurt knows he loves him. 

Things get ten times worse when they walk into the auditorium and see the black and red Dalton blazers. _Blaine._ Kurt hasn’t seen or talked to the boy since the whole fiasco before Christmas. He hasn’t thought about the boy in months. 

His hopes of being ignored are dashed when Blaine walks up to him near the bathroom and says, “Kurt, hey.” 

“Hey,” Kurt says back. He wants to find a rabbit hole and die. 

Blaine makes an aborted attempt to touch Kurt’s arm. “How have you been?” 

“Fine,” Kurt says tightly. 

Blaine nods, but he looks like he doesn’t believe him. “Nervous?” 

Kurt really wants to be anywhere else. “Nope.” He sees Mike near the door to the auditorium and says, “Sorry, I have to go get ready.” 

He turns to leave, but a hand wraps around his wrist, stopping him. “Kurt,” Blaine says again. Kurt swallows and looks at the boy. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Kurt nods, hoping that’s the end of it, but it isn’t. “I never meant to lead you on or hurt you.” He gaze flickers down then back up. “I miss hanging out with you.” 

Kurt shakes his arm free. “I can’t have this conversation right now. Maybe after the contest.” Blaine nods and lets him go this time. Kurt makes a beeline for the rest of his group. To be honest, Kurt would like a gay friend again. There were things he could talk to Blaine about that no one else every got. However, Blaine Anderson is the last thing on Kurt’s mind. 

New Directions takes their place in the seat and Regionals begins. Aural Intensity goes first. Kurt would have been awed and slightly worried about their stellar Jesus-filled performance if he didn’t keep twisting in his seat and glancing around. Dad and Carole are sitting his left, up eight rows.  _There are a lot of people here. Maybe I just can’t see him._

The Dalton Academy Warblers go on second. Finn and Quinn whisper about how good they are. Then it’s their turn. Rachel begins her solo. She sounds mind blowing. Kurt peeks around the curtain backstage and looks for Dave.  _He could be sitting on the second tier._ Except for the first few rows, Kurt can’t make out any of the other faces on the second level. 

The music cues, and Kurt steps on stage. They rock  _Loser Like Me_. Kurt sings the song he helped write, forcing everything negative from his mind. Then they’re finished. The drunken host stumbles on stage. Mercedes takes his hand. 

“And the winner is… New Directions!” Cheers explode around him. Finn punches him on the shoulder. Rachel squeals, jumping up and down. Tina throws her arms around him. Kurt still doesn’t see Dave.  _I can’t really see anyone with the crowd standing like that._

They trickle off stage. Mr. Schue is smiling and giving everyone a congratulatory shout. Then Puck laughs from behind Kurt. “Shit,” he says. Heads turn his way. He laughs again and holds up his phone. “Guess we weren’t the only ones having fun tonight.” Sam blocks Kurt’s way for a moment, but then he moves out of the way for Kurt to see. 

It a picture of a house that’s been horribly toilet papered. “Apparently Karofsky and Azimio got Ben Israel back for that shit article about the basketball team,” Puck says, chuckling. 

Kurt turns. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he says to anyone listening. Jogging off stage, he ducks his head, hoping no one notices his tears. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

A knock reverberates through Kurt’s room. He curls around his pillow, rubbing his face against the soft material. “I’m trying to sleep,” he calls out over Celine Dion’s voice. 

His dad ignores the comment and opens the door anyway. Burt steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Kurt says, words muffled. 

Burt sighs. “Kurt…” 

Kurt screws his body around and snaps, “I said I’m fine, weren’t you listening?” 

Apparently, that isn’t the thing to say, because his dad walks over to the iPod dock, flicks off the music, then sits on the edge of Kurt’s bed. “I’m going to ignore the way you just talked to me because I love you and can tell you’re upset.” His hand hovers over Kurt’s back for a second before settling down. 

Kurt wants to shrug him off, but the simple touch feels so good that he can’t make himself. 

“What’s going on buddy? Talk to me.” 

His eyes begin to burn. Kurt buries his face in his pillow again. “Can’t you just leave me alone Dad?”  _I can’t handle you right now._

“Kurt,” Burt says. When Kurt doesn’t answer, he pulls on his son’s shoulder and tugs him to his side. “Kurt, I’ve left you alone. You’ve been moping in here for three days. I let you stay home from school today. You need to let me in.” 

Kurt shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” Grief wells in Kurt chest, as fresh and cutting as it has been since Friday, since Regionals.  _Please just go._

Burt’s hand slides from his back to the nape of his neck. His thumb presses lightly in the place behind Kurt’s ear. Kurt’s willpower collapses. When he was young, Kurt’s mom used to pet his hair and rub her fingers in the spots behind Kurt’s ears. 

He surges upwards, abandoning the lesser comfort of his pillow, and throws himself against his father’s chest. Kurt can’t talk. The words are too jumbled, too private in his head, so he cries instead. Burt’s worn cotton shirt sticks to Kurt’s skin, tears acting like glue. Kurt doesn’t care. He just turns his nose inwards, breathing in the scent of car oil and grease. The bottom of Burt’s chin presses reassuringly against the top of Kurt’s head, and not for the first time in his life, Kurt wishes he could crawl inside his dad’s embrace and leave the world behind. 

“Jesus,” Burt curses. His hands run soothingly up Kurt’s back, stopping every so often to squeeze at Kurt’s neck and shoulders. 

They stay like that for a while. How long, Kurt’s unsure, but his tears dry out, his eyes throb and his whole body feels stiff and mechanic. “Sorry,” he whispers, wiping his face with the edge of his blanket. 

His dad’s fingers find that safe place at the back of his ears again, and Burt says, “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

Kurt suddenly notices the crack and peel of his lips. He bends past his father and slips his chapstick off the nightstand. Burt stares at him as he applies a layer, twice. Eyes flickering down, Kurt says, “I’ve been seeing someone.” 

The fingers fall from his neck. The sudden absence of warmth is like an icepick to Kurt’s chest. “I know.” Kurt’s ears ring. He shakes his head, because he’s pretty sure his dad just said _, I know._  His gaze flutters upwards to meet his father’s. Wrinkles pucker over Burt’s nose and on his forehead. 

Burt sighs, slips off his hat, and runs his hand over his balding head. “I’m not blind Kurt, nor am I stupid. You’ve been gone way more than normal. Despite the fact I know you love your friends, there is no way you’re spending that much time with Mercedes and Rachel Berry. Not to mention that you’ve been walking on cloud nine the past few months.” 

Kurt leans back, shoulders tight, mouth hanging open. “You  _knew_? Why didn’t you say anything?” 

The bed shifts as Burt eases against the headboard. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. I remember what being seventeen is like.” 

Silence is thick in the room as Kurt processes.  _He knew I was seeing someone._ A crazy bubble of laughter rises in his chest, but it dies quickly as Kurt catches sight of his dad’s serious gaze.  _He’s waiting for me to say something._ Kurt has no idea what to say, no idea how to continue. 

Fortunately, Burt takes the reins. “Do you want to tell me what’s being going on?” 

_ Not really,  _ Kurt thinks, but then he realizes, he  _does_  want to tell his dad. He wants someone to tell him what to do. He wants his dad to give him advice, make his hurt go away. Kurt swallows the sudden rock in his throat and says, “I’ve been dating this guy since February.” He pauses, then amends his statement. “Well, really we’ve been seeing each other before that, before Christmas, but it’s been official since Valentine’s Day.”

Burt’s eyes narrow. Kurt knows his dad wants to comment, but Kurt’s begun, and he can’t keep everything inside anymore. “It was going so well. He didn’t want to come out, which I thought I could deal with.” His eyes begin to burn again. “But it got too hard. I told him he needed to come to see me at Regional’s or we were over. He didn’t show up.” He wipes away the tears on his cheek and in a small voice adds, “I really thought he loved me.” 

His dad doesn’t respond right away, which surprises Kurt. 

“Dad?” Kurt says tentatively. 

“Kurt,” Burt says, rubbing his palms down the length of his battered jeans, “You know I love you more than anything else in this world.” He doesn’t pause, but Kurt nods like he does. “You deserve to be in a relationship with someone who will support and care for you.” His dad’s tone is low and soothing, but Kurt knows this is leading up to something. A knot twists in his stomach. “You deserve to be with someone who is as proud to be who they are, as you are to be you.” 

Kurt nods again. He twists the pillow case beneath his fingers. Burt stares into Kurt’s eyes as he continues, “But Kurt, you should never give anyone you’re in a relationship an ultimatum. It’s not fair.” 

“Not fair?” Kurt cries, pushing himself backwards. His hand catches the edge of the bed and twists, swinging his body. His feet slam into the carpet. He shoves his fingers under his arms. “Why are you taking his side?” Tears cloud his vision. Fury fueling his suddenly energy, Kurt yanks his sleeve over his face to wipe away the evidence of his sorrow. 

Burt stands and circles the bed. “I’m not taking his side.” He stops and shakes his head. “I don’t even know who he is! I’m trying to help you out here buddy, and you can’t even tell me who you’ve been dating,” Burt’s voice rises, and he throws up his hands.   

_ You are taking his side!  _ Kurt’s brain screams. His muscles coil tight as anger floods his system. “It’s David Karofsky!” Kurt hurls the name like a weapon.

It hits like one too. Burt staggers back. His hands fall to his sides like limp dishrags. Red spreads across his face in a flash. His head tilts to the side. His question stretches out like chewed gum. “The boy that threatened to kill you?” 

Shame, guilt, and even more anger fill Kurt’s lungs. “He’s not that guy anymore Dad,” Kurt says hurriedly. He licks his lips. “He was just beat-up inside before. He’s changed.” 

A vein in Burt’s neck pulses. He takes a slow step forward. His hands are curled by his sides in tight fists. “You’ve been dating the boy who was shoving you into lockers and made you come home crying with bruises on your back?”  

It’s not that Kurt had forgotten about those things, it’s just that they seem so long ago. Dave  _is_  a different person. “Dad,” Kurt says again. “He’s changed. He’d never hurt me. He’s learned to control his temper.” 

_ I’m going to punch his face in.  _ The memory of those words, of Dave’s words, said only a few days ago, flickers through Kurt’s mind. Kurt shakes his head. “He even stops the other jerks at school from bullying me.”

“Kurt!” Burt shouts. He flings his arm towards the bed. “You were just bawling your eyes out because of him.” Burt grinds his teeth together. His jaw ticks. 

“That’s not the same.” Kurt wipes his sleeves over his face again. He opens his mouth to suck in air. His chest is burning. 

His dad turns around, like he can’t stand to look at Kurt, and yanks off his hat. “Jesus,” Burt curses under his breath. There’s a long moment when the only sound in the room is mirroring panting of father and son. The silences kill Kurt. “Dad…” 

“Kurt,” Burt snaps. “I am not okay with you dating David Karofsky.” 

Misery fills Kurt’s mouth like ash. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re over.” 

Burt nods, but the anger doesn’t leave his face. He slides his hat back on his head and says, “I need some time to think about this.” His hand wraps around the doorknob, but he stops before leaving. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t keep any secrets like this from me again.” 

Kurt nods then watches his dad’s retreating back. The misery slides down his throat. It piles up in his stomach. Bile rises, elbowing its way in besides the feeling. All his strength fades away. Somehow Kurt makes it back to the bed, even though his legs feel like jelly. He collapses. His pillow brushes along his forehead, and his comforter is an uncomfortable lump beneath his body. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t cry. He tries not to think. 

He just wallows in an endless storm of desolation. 

*** 

“I got you a latte,” Finn says, holding out a Lima Bean cup. 

Kurt takes it but doesn’t drink. “Thanks,” he says. The cup tips in his hand. A puddle of cream colored coffee seeps around the lid. 

“It’s soy, and almond. Possibly vanilla. I’m not too sure. The lady at the counter asked me a lot of questions.” Finn smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. They pass by Quinn’s locker and Finn slows down. Kurt walks a few paces past and stops. His locker is down the hall, but he doesn’t really want to go all the way there. He can see Dave’s locker from his. Finn bobs his head then says, “I wanted to thank you.” 

Surprise flutters through Kurt’s chest. He latches onto the feeling. Anything is better than the sorrowful nothing that’s taken up his whole being. He raises an eyebrow. 

“For not telling Burt that I knew about you and Karofsky,” Finn says as if Kurt asked a question. “He would have killed me if he knew I knew and said nothing.” It’s been three days since Burt came into Kurt’s room. Things have been tense at the Hummel-Hudson household. Finn’s face had gone as white as ghost when Burt had brought up Dave at the dinner table. 

Kurt shrugs. It’s not like he meant  _not_  to tell. Finn knowing just never popped. “No problem. I’m already in trouble. No point in getting you in trouble too.” Kurt tries for sarcastic humor, but it falls flat. 

Finn nods and flashes Kurt one of his classic half-smiles. It last a second too long, and Kurt knows the conversation is about to get uncomfortable. He looks down the hall. “Hey, I have to…” 

“Burt told me to look out for you. Make sure you’re okay,” Finn says, bowling over Kurt’s flight attempt. 

Kurt presses his lips together. “I’m not a child Finn.” 

Finn shifts and shrugs. “I know, but you’re my brother. Both your dad and I don’t like seeing you hurt.” 

Suddenly, his eyes feel heavy, and for the first time in days it’s not because he feels sad. He sniffs and says, “Thanks.” Finn smiles, a real one this time, then hugs him.  _God,_ Kurt thinks. He squeezes back hard, basking in Finn’s strength. 

“Homos,” Azimio’s voice slices through Kurt’s moment of happiness. Finn let’s go and Kurt looks over to the douchebag. 

He’s not alone. Dave is beside him, McKinley jacket hanging loose on his tall frame, despite the fact it’s April and sixty degrees outside. His face is gaunt and pale. Bags droop under his eyes. He doesn’t say anything as he passes. He gives Finn a momentary sneer, but the expression slides off his face as he looks at Kurt. 

“Go away,” Kurt says. The words are directed in Azimio’s direction, but he can’t take his eyes off Dave. 

“What’s wrong?” Azimio taunts. “They run out of your favorite make-up?” He turns towards Dave for a high-five, but Dave never stopped walking. Azimio frowns at his friend’s back. He flashes Finn and Kurt a disgusted look and hurries after Dave. “Dude, what’s up with you?” Kurt hears him say, but he ignores the big jock and faces Finn. 

His brother is red-faced. “Do you want me to go get Puck and beat them up?” Finn asks. 

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. Coffee sloshes from the square whole in the lid and splashes Kurt’s hand. He grimaces even though it’s not hot enough to burn anymore. “I just want things to go back to normal.” Dave disappears around the corner.  _Heading towards first period Spanish._ Normally, Kurt would be receiving a playful text from Donkey Kong right about now. Tears threaten again. He squashes them down ruthlessly. He forces a smile to his face and takes a sip of the lukewarm coffee. It tastes like a candy bar and hurts Kurt’s teeth. 

Quinn appears from nowhere, planting a quick kiss to Finn’s cheek. She smiles at Kurt and hands him a flyer. He tries to concentrate on what she’s saying- something about prom queen- but a single thought cycles through his brain like poison. 

_ What if I never feel normal again?  _

*** 

The following Sunday Kurt receives a text message while out for coffee and bagels with Mercedes and Tina. He’s been pretending everything’s fine, forcing himself to do the things he normally does. Every moment feels like an eternity, and even though he’s not crying every day, the fist around his heart hasn’t stop squeezing. 

It’s from Donkey Kong. He excuses himself from the table, claiming to need the bathroom. Behind the closed door of the one stall in the men’s room, Kurt takes a deep breath and opens the message. 

_ Hey, _  it says.  _Can we talk?_

Kurt wants to say no. He wants to be a bitch and tell Dave to fuck off, but he wants not to feel like every second is torture more.  _Yeah. Where? When?_

His phone chirps.  _My dad’s office. 30 mins?_

Kurt glances at his watch. It’s ten. He doesn’t have to help dad at the garage until two. He glances at the stall door.  _Mercedes and Tina are expecting you to go shopping with them,_ Kurt tells himself. He looks back his phone.  _Okay,_ he types back. 

_ Thanks,  _ Dave replies. Kurt doesn’t respond. He stuffs his phone in his pocket and checks himself in the mirror before heading back out the table.

“Hey girls,” Kurt says. He bends his knees at the table, hunching, apologizing. “My dad just called. He needs me earlier than he thought.” 

Tina blinks. Mercedes says, “Hell no! You promised you’d come shopping with us.” 

“Sorry.” He holds up his hands. 

Both girls frown. “Kurt!” Mercedes growls. He knows she’s not mad about the shopping. She’s been on him all week about his depressed mood. 

“Sorry,” he says again. 

She stands up and grabs his wrist as he steps away from the table. “What is going on with you?” 

He looks at her angry face and has a realization.  _I’m going to lose my best friend._ He swallows then leans in to wrap his arms around her body. “I can’t tell you yet. But I promise I will.” He looks at Tina and makes the same promise with his eyes. 

Mercedes pulls out the embrace. “When?”  

“Soon.” 

“That’s not good enough,” she says, hands on her hips. 

He wracks his brain for an answer. “Before prom.” 

“Prom is two weeks away!” she growls. 

“So not long at all.” Time is ticking. It’s going to take at least twenty minutes to get to the college. She doesn’t think his snarkiness is funny, so he relents. “Before prom. I promise. That way I’ll have everything figured out myself.” 

She huffs, clearly unhappy with the answer. “Mercedes,” he pleas. 

“Fine.” She crosses her arms to show her disagreement. 

“Thank you.” Kurt leans forward again and presses a kiss to her cheek. He squeezes Tina’s shoulder. 

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, but the tips of her lips tilt upwards. 

“I love you girls,” Kurt says, twisting his hands. 

Mercedes snorts and Tina says, “Go help your dad.” 

Kurt hugs them each and leaves the coffees shop. He jogs to his car. 

*** 

The parking lot of the college is empty except for Dave’s blue truck. Dave’s waiting inside as Kurt pulls into the spot next to him. They both get out of their cars and meet on the sidewalk. 

“Hey,” Dave says, sticking his hands in the pockets of his letterman jacket. His shoulders are hunched and his face drawn. 

“Hey.” The whole thing is reminiscent of the first time he and Dave met here, forever and a day ago. 

Dave turns his back to Kurt as he says, “Let’s go inside.” He doesn’t wait for Kurt’s answer. He heads for the front doors. His hand only comes out to unlock and pull open the door. He holds it open for Kurt with his back. 

“Thanks,” Kurt says mechanically. Coming here feels like a mistake. However, instead of leaving, Kurt follows Dave down the familiar hallway. 

Mr. Karofsky’s office is just as Kurt remembers it- small room, big desk, and battered loveseat. Neither Kurt nor Dave sit down. Dave presses against the edge of desk. Kurt hovers under the doorframe. The silence stretches thin. Finally, Kurt can’t take it anymore. “What am I doing here Dave?” 

The bigger boy’s eyes flicker back and forth as Dave looks from Kurt’s boots to his face. Kurt watches as his ex-boyfriend’s mouth pulls into a line and sadness floods his gaze. “I’m sorry,” Dave rasps. Kurt doesn’t reply, so Dave continues. “I’m so sorry.”  His hands finally come out of his pockets. They reach towards Kurt, but drop halfway there. 

Kurt’s been dreaming of an apology. It feels nothing like he expected. It doesn’t feel good. “Sorry doesn’t matter,” Kurt chokes out. Wetness slides down his face. He doesn’t move to wipe away his tears. “You didn’t care enough about me to come support me.” There’s glass in Kurt throat. It cuts as he swallows. 

“I care about you,” Dave whispers. He bites his lips and bows his head. When he lifts it seconds later, tears drip down his cheeks. “I love you.” 

The words steal Kurt’s breath. A shattered gasp wracks through the room. 

Dave sways forward and grabs Kurt’s arms. “I love you,” he says again. Dave tears come harder. 

Kurt lets his head fall forward. Dave’s chest feels familiar and warm. “I know.” He doesn’t grip Dave back. “I love you too.” The muscles beneath him shudder. Dave releases a little sob. Kurt steps away. Fingers scrap along his bare elbows. 

He looks into Dave’s eyes. “It’s not enough.” 

Dave staggers backwards, hitting the desk. He rubs his thumb under his eyes. “Why?” he cries. 

Kurt’s breathe hiccups. “Because I need someone who will come to my shows.” It sounds petty, so Kurt continues even though he feels like collapsing onto the floor. “I need someone who isn’t afraid of themselves, who isn’t ashamed of me. I need someone who will hang out with my friends and come over to my house for dinner.” Kurt has to stop and gulp in air. He reaches out and grabs Dave’s hands. He presses them together between his own. “I love you Dave. I want to be with you. But I respect myself too much to let you keep me your dirty secret.” 

Dave yanks his hands free, and suddenly, Kurt feels empty. His tears slow. He stands there, watching grief and anger shift over the other boy’s face. “I can’t,” Dave says, voice trembling. He shakes his head, as if trying to jiggle something free. “I can’t.” His words die like he just can’t finish his thoughts. 

Kurt licks his lips and nods. “I know.” Dave fumbles forward and presses his lips against Kurt’s. 

“Please,” he sobs, breath ghosting over Kurt’s skin. 

Kurt moves away, steps into the hallway. He shakes his head. “Now you won’t have too. I set you free.” 

“I don’t want to be free.” 

_ I don’t want to be free either.  _ The emptiness grows, numbing Kurt’s chest, his head, his whole body. “Bye.” He turns, walks a few steps down the hall. Dave’s sobs are like drumrolls in his ears. He pauses, sucks in air, and then pulls the numbness over his thoughts.

_ This is for the best, _  Kurt tells himself. It sounds like a lie.

 


	21. Chapter 21

“You look rockin’,” Mercedes says. She gives Kurt another once over and nods her head. 

Kurt runs a glob of gel through his hair then turns to his side to get a better look in the mirror. He’s trying out a new look, wearing his hair more spiked than normal. “According to Vogue, longer, edgy hair is in for guys,” Kurt says. He pops the lid of his hair gel closed and puts it back in his hair-care basket.   

Mercedes primps her own hair and says, “I read that too.” 

“Can we go yet?” Tina sighs from the bed. Kurt turns to look at her. She sets down his latest issue of  _Cosmo_.  

“Do I look fabulous?” She rolls her eyes. Kurt flashes her a wounded look. He manages it a whole three seconds. “Come on, isn’t this supposed to be my day?” he asks, half whining, half teasing. 

Tina raises an eyebrow. “I’ve sat here while you’ve tried on twelve outfits.” 

“And you’ve styled your hair five different ways. We waited while you washed your hair twice,” Mercedes snaps. 

Kurt pulls a baby wipe from the container on his vanity and cleans his fingers. His shoulders slump. “I know, you’ve both been super patient with me,” Kurt admits. He squeezes Mercedes arm then sits on the bed next to Tina. He waves his hand. “It’s just… I need a change of pace.” 

Tina’s mouth pulls tight and Mercedes snorts. “Imagine that?” his best friend quips, but Mercedes’ voice softens when she adds, “You shouldn’t have to change yourself because of that douchebag.” 

“He’s not a douchebag,” Kurt says, anger coloring his words.  _Stop,_ he tells himself. He sucks in a lungful of air and slowly exhales. He lets his gaze meet Mercedes then Tina’s eyes. “We’re just at different places in our lives.” 

“I still say we slash the tires on his truck.” Mercedes snaps her fingers and cocks her hip. Tina nods. 

“No,” Kurt says for the millionth time. “I told you. I’m not angry _.” Just hurt._ His heart gives a painful tremble in his chest. He forces a smile. “Besides, I don’t believe in outing people, and slashing Dave’s tires will definitely count as outing-like behavior.” 

Mercedes flashes Tina a look. Kurt can read it like an open book. “Stop it,” he demands. “Stop whatever crazy plan you’re thinking. I don’t want revenge or payback or anything. I just want to move on.” The memory of a kissing in Dave’s room after sharing a raspberry latte flashes through his mind. Phantom pressure tingles along his lips. Kurt shakes his head. 

“I still can’t believe you dated Karofsky,” Tina says, swinging her legs off the bed. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe he’s gay.” 

“I can’t believe you kept it from us so long.” Mercedes shoots him a disapproving look. Kurt knows she still pissed at him, but Kurt also knows his best friend is a huge gossip. 

“And you aren’t going to tell anyone,” Kurt says. They exchange glances again. Kurt rolls his hand. “Come on, say it with me. ‘I’m not going to tell anyone.’” 

Neither of them repeats the phrase. Tina blows out a huff of air, and Mercedes frowns and says, “We already promised. Don’t you trust us?” 

Kurt slides over to his friend and cups his hand around her shoulder. “Of course I trust you. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.” The corners of her lips tug upwards. He jerks his head towards the door. “Come on, I’m done. Let’s go find accessories for our prom outfits.” A full-watt smile blooms over her face. 

Kurt looks over his should at Tina. “Finally,” she says. Kurt smirks and rolls his eyes.   

*** 

“Can I slash his tires now?” Mercedes growls in Kurt’s ear. 

He’s too stunned to respond. His stomach has dropped into guts. His heart is in his throat. He watches Santana speed up and catch Dave’s hand. She looks over her shoulder and flicks them off with her eyes. Dave doesn’t turn around. They disappear from the choir room. 

_ I think I’m going to throw up. _

Finn twists around in his chair and leans back to whisper to Kurt. “Are you okay?” 

Eyes fly to Kurt. “I’m fine,” he rasps out. The lie whips him like a lash. 

“This is impossible,” Brittany says. Kurt’s eyes flicker to the blond. “Santana can’t go to prom with Karofsky. That’s just wrong.” 

For a moment, Kurt’s sure she’s talking about Dave’s sexuality, but then he realizes that’s ridiculous.  _There’s no way she knows._ Tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes.  _Maybe I should make sure she knows. Maybe I should tell the whole damn school. Then everyone will know that Dave is using Santana as a beard._ Hurt morphs to anger.  His fingers curl into fists at his sides. 

“Kurt?” Mercedes says worriedly. 

“I’m fine,” he says again, more forceful this time. She obviously not convinced, and Finn is wearing his classic bothered face. Kurt steps down and brushes past his friends.  “I need to go to French.” 

“Kurt!” Mercedes calls out. He ignores her and hurries out of the room. 

_ It doesn’t matter,  _ Kurt tells himself.  _We’re broken up. He can go to prom with anyone he wants._ Kurt slams his shoulder into the bathroom door, forcing his way inside. There are a few other guys there, but Kurt marches past them into an empty stall.  _He can pretend to be straight if he wants._ His bag drops to the floor as he collapses onto the toilet seat.  _I don’t care._ He buries his hands in his hair and presses his palms into his forehead.  _I don’t care._

A sob catches in his throat. Suddenly, there’s a knock on his stall. “Hey, it’s me,” Finn says. “Open the door.” Kurt doesn’t move. “Or I’ll crawl under the door, and if those guys come back it’ll be weird.” 

Kurt reaches forward and slides the lock. Finn swings the door inwards and takes a step forward. “Are you okay?” 

“You already asked that.” 

Finn holds up his hands. “You don’t have to snap at me. I’m not the one going out with Santana.” 

“Been there, done that. Right?” The words just jump out. Kurt feels bad as soon as he says them. 

“Dude, not cool.” 

“Sorry.” Kurt sighs and hides his face again.  _I will not cry. I will not cry._

Fingers brush along the top of his head. “Hey…” 

“Please leave.” Finn’s light touch strengthens as he presses his hand against the back of Kurt’s neck. He moves forward and kneels down. He pulls Kurt into his stomach. “Finn…” 

“Break ups suck.” 

It’s a major understatement, and forces a chuckle from Kurt. “Yeah, they do.” 

“It’ll be okay,” Finn says. It’s supposed to be comforting. Kurt just feels worse. 

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes. A tear slips down his face and catches on his lip. 

*** 

Kurt pins the white corsage to the lapel of jacket. The pale color is stark against the black of his suit.  _Alright, no more lollygagging._ He runs his palms down the length of his kilt. He takes a deep breath and heads downstairs. 

“What do you think?” he asks. Finn is sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for him. 

His step-brother blinks, taking in the atypical male prom outfit then says, “Uh, it’s cool. Kind of like Braveheart.” 

Kurt snorts. “Well, at least you have the right cultural influence, if not the right designer.” 

“You boys ready to pick up your ladies?” Carol says, camera in hand. She snaps a picture of Kurt. He spins, letting her get the full effect. 

“Yeah,” Finn replies. “We’re picking up Mercedes first and then Quinn.” He glances at his mom and adds, “We’re going to be taking a thousand pictures there, so you don’t really have to take any here.” 

“Don’t be silly Finn.” Carol waves her son towards Kurt. “Stand together. I want to get a few pictures of my boys.” 

Kurt smiles and hops next to Finn. “Make sure you get my good side,” he tells her. 

“Your sides are all good,” Burt says wandering into the room. He’s got a steaming mug cupped in his hand. 

“That better be decafe,” Kurt warns. 

His dad grins. “Decafe with artificial sweetener.” 

Kurt nods. A horn honks from outside. “That must be Artie and Brittany,” Finn says, jumping at the chance to flee. 

“See you later.” Kurt waves, smiling at his parents.  _See, this is a great start._

“Have fun!” Burt says. 

Kurt steels his shoulders. “We will,” Kurt shouts as Finn yanks him out the door.  _I will._ He smiles at his friends already in the limo.  _I don’t need to be pressed to a firm chest to have a good time. Mercedes is my date, and we’re going to look fabulous together._

End of story. 

*** 

They’re running late from the hour of pictures at Ms. Fabray’s house, and the McKinley High gym is packed by the time they get there. Quinn immediately drags Finn to the picture booth set up outside the decorated room. Kurt feels bad for his step brother for a second. Then he thinks,  _At least he’s here with his girlfriend,_ and his sympathy dries up. Mercedes laughs beside him, and Kurt immediately feels guilty for the thought.   

Dave and Santana come through the school doors. Kurt twists around and says, “Come on, let’s go inside.” 

The gym glitters. The main lights are dimmed and silver, sparkling paper lanterns hang every few yards. A DJ is stationed across the room, under a basketball hoop. There a few people already dancing, but most are milling around in packs, gossiping. 

“Why, don’t you two look lovely,” Rachel says, stealing Kurt’s attention. She’s wearing a pale orange-pink gown. Most of the dress is sequined, and while it’s not really Kurt’s taste, he does have to admit she sparkles as much as the room. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” Kurt praises.  She begins the long story of how she bought the dress. Kurt tunes her out and takes in more of the room. Mike and Tina are by the punch bowl. The Asian boy is getting his girlfriend a drink. Both of them look dashing- him in a pristine white tux and her in a dark blue and black knee-length dress.   

Puck and Lauren are two of the few already on the dance floor. Puck’s also sporting a white tux, though he’s wearing a black shirt underneath. Lauren is in a matching white and black dress. She has a tiara on her head. Kurt watches as Puck laughs at something she says then reaches up to straighten the crown. 

A wave of longing hits Kurt hard. He touches Mercedes arm. “I need to go to the little boy’s room. I’ll be right back.” She nods, and he slips away. 

The music isn’t as loud down the hallway, though Kurt can still hear it as he gets closer to the bathroom. As he nears the door two seniors burst out, laughing and smelling like smoke. Kurt flinches back. He can hear more of them inside, partying, so Kurt pivots on his heels and continues down the hall, heading for the boy’s bathroom near the cafeteria. 

Voices and music fade as he turns from one hall to the next. His walk slows as he passes by the classroom right before the cafeteria doors. It’s Mrs. Butler’s science classroom, and it’s just as empty as it is every day when Kurt heads to lunch.   

“Do you remember when we made out in there?” 

Kurt’s heart leaps into his throat, and he spins around, startled.  _Gaga, he looks good._ The tuxedo shows off his broad shoulders and the muscles in his arms. 

“I remember,” Kurt says. “You yelled at me, threatened me, then kissed me like you were dying.” 

Dave moves closer. They’re inches apart, and Kurt thinks,  _If anyone comes around the corner, this looks mighty incriminating._

His ex-boyfriend swallows and looks down. “I remember how angry I was at you. How scared, but I couldn’t help myself from kissing you.” 

Kurt locks his fingers together hard enough to hurt. “Physical attraction was never our problem,” he murmurs. 

Dave snorts. “No. It wasn’t.” There’s a moment of awkward silence, then Dave looks up. Kurt feels his gazes from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. A wave of arousal spirals up his spine. “You look good,” Dave says. 

His face goes hot. “Thanks,” Kurt says. He tucks his hands under his arms, because clenching them together isn’t working. “You too.” 

A scream of laughter travels from somewhere nearby. Both boys glance around. There’s no one in sight. A puff of air escapes Dave’s lips. He looks Kurt up and down again and reaches out to touch Kurt’s arm. “I still love you.” 

“Stop.” Kurt holds out a hand. “You can’t do this.” Heartache coils through his chest and at the base of his throat. Kurt closes his eyes, trying to gather his strength.  He opens them again when he’s found the words he wants. “I told you how I feel. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me more than his reputation.” It harsh, and Dave flinches as if he’s been hit. 

_ Is this never going to end?  _ A heavy weariness settles over Kurt’s being, making him feel a hundred years old. “Look, you’ve made your choice. Do I wish it were different? Yes.” Kurt moves backwards, putting some space between their bodies. “Do I wish we were here together? Have I had fantasies about us dancing at prom, you holding my close? Yes. I wish that more than you can ever know. But Dave,” Kurt pauses to take a breath. “You’re here with Santana.”

Dave’s jaw clenches, and that familiar scared anger washes over his face. Kurt can’t stand to look at it, because he wants to kiss the boy in front of him and make the look disappear.  _That’s not my job anymore._ “Bye.” 

Kurt doesn’t wait for a reply. He turns and heads back to the gym. His eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t cry. He slips inside, searching for his friends. Rachel and Mercedes are easy to spot. The two of them are on either side of Sam, dancing in a fairly ridiculous manner. “Hey,” he greets, fake smile already in place. “Any room for me?” 

Mercedes grins. “Of course.” She grabs his hand and spins him around.  

“Where have you been?” Rachel asks. “It’s almost time for the king and queen announcement.” 

He shares a look with Mercedes, and not for the first time he’s glad he told her about Dave. She squeezes his hand. “Oh, just fixing myself in the bathroom. I had to go all the way to the one by the cafeteria though. I think Mack Leoman and Parker Maxwell were smoking pot in the one over here.”    

“That’s not surprising,” Puck chimes in. He throws an arm over Kurt’s shoulder and grins. 

Suddenly, the music stops and Principal Figgins picks up the microphone near the DJ. “Testing, one-two.” Everyone begins to settle down. Quinn grabs Finn’s hand. “It’s time to announce the prom king and queen. I need everyone’s attention.” It takes another minute to get the silence their principal wants, but finally, it’s quiet enough that Kurt can hear Mercedes’ breaths. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it has been an exciting race this year for the royal titles,” Mr. Figgins says with the excitement of a four-year old watching a documentary of how grass grows. 

“Get on with it!” a voice calls from someone on the side of the crowd. 

Mr. Figgins frowns but continues anyway.  He opens the card in his hands and leans into the mic. “This year’s prom king and queen are,” he pauses, as if waiting for a drumroll. When nothing happens, he says, “Dave Karofsky and Santana Lopez.” 

Immediately, the gymnasium bursts into a symphony of voices. Kurt hears Quinn curse to his left, and he turns just in time to see her storm out. Finn is hot on her heels. 

“I’d like to thank the little people for voting for me,” Santana says, drawing Kurt attention back to the front of the room. She’s already has the crown on her head and a huge, smug grin across her face. Dave is standing by her side, looking as if he’s been hit by a bus. 

She continues, but the principal cuts her off. “It’s now time for the traditional prom king and queen dance.” Santana looks pissed for one long second, but then a pleased smile takes its place. She takes Dave’s hand and drags him to the center of the dance floor.   

The crowd circles around. Somehow Kurt ends up at the front. Dave wraps his hand around Santana’s waist and they begin to dance. Savage Garden’s  _Truly, Madly, Deeply_ floats into the air. 

_ This isn’t fair. _

They make a slow turn as they dance, and eventually, Dave gaze falls upon Kurt. Santana keeps swaying, but Dave is frozen in place. A frown spreads across her face. Dave shakes himself free. “I can’t do this.” 

He moves towards Kurt. 

“What the hell?” Santana yells. If everyone’s attention wasn’t on the new McKinley High royalty, it is now. 

Dave stops when his toes bump against Kurt’s. Kurt doesn’t move. He can’t. Dave licks his lips and raises his hands. “Will you dance with me?” 

Kurt’s heart stutters. “I…” Kurt fumbles, words flying away like plastic bags in the wind. 

“Please. Dance with me.” Dave’s hand slips into his. It’s warm, slightly damp, and all encompassing. 

Kurt nods and follows Dave onto the dance floor. Peripherally, Kurt’s aware of the voices chattering wildly around him. He can even make our Mr. Schue’s voice somewhere out there. Yet, when Dave’s drags him closer, wrapping his free hand around Kurt’s waist, Kurt can’t focus on anything but the boy before him. 

They press together, and after a moment, Kurt lets his head fall against Dave’s chest. He smells the plain soap Dave uses, and that musky, masculine scent that has driven Kurt to distraction more times than he can remember. 

Dave’s nose nuzzles against the top of his head, rough lips clinging to his forehead. Kurt raises his head. “The song’s over,” he whispers. 

“I know.” Another song doesn’t come on. Someone has killed the music. They continue to dance. The hand around his waist slides up Kurt’s back until it rests at the nape of his neck. Dave’s other hand slips out of Kurt’s fingers and traces along his jaw. “I love you,” Dave whispers. 

Kurt moistens his lips. 

“I love you,” Dave says again, louder. 

Kurt’s breath catches in his throat. Fingers cup his face. 

Dave kisses him. 

Lips press against his. Love and lust, and this feeling of  _belonging_ , curling inside Kurt’s body. . Dave’s fingers tremble against his back, and Kurt wraps his arms around Dave’s neck. They break for air. “I love you,” Dave says once more. 

“I love you.” Kurt brings their lips together again. 

The kiss and the world fades away. 

 


End file.
